The FANDOM Made Me Do It: Collabs, Prompts and Extra Stuff
by comewithnattah
Summary: A place for the chapters I've written with all my fandom besties (please visit author, We'reTheOnesWhoWrite for the full stories of these chapters) A place for Prompts and Extra Stuff (As the title suggests)
1. Novelty Indulgences- Chapter 1

This is the first chapter to a three-part story I wrote with **Thematsaidwelcome **and **Nyese3529** called " **Novelty Indulgences** " You can find the other chapters for this story under the author: **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite**

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"Beginner?"

"Sorry?" Rick raised a puzzled brow at the woman beside him. Her face-full of makeup was so over the top it could only be rivaled by her hot pink hair and her outfit, or lack thereof, which looked like it was made from strips of black duct tape.

"You a beginner? She repeated a little louder with a smile on her cartoonish magenta lips, gesturing to the arrangement on the table draped in a lush black fabric and skirted with a big fuchsia bow. There was a dark and mysterious but playful vibe to her layout. The array of leather whips with heavy glass handles, fuzzy cuffs and chrome chains, sleek silver vibrators and other adult toys were elegantly displayed. "New to the life? Don't be shy." She sanctioned him and coaxed him over with a tilt of her head before he could answer.

"No ma'am." Rick chuckled openly at the implication, his brow knit in a sexy questioning expression. "I'm on duty." He rested his hands on his gun belt, exuding authority with his lean, muscled frame. His words reminded him to scan the large, bustling annex of the convention center. He did a once over with his sharp blue eyes for any suspicious characters or dangerous elements amid the half naked attendees of the Adult Novelty Expo.

"How long you been married?" She asked, throwing a casual chin to his wedding ring as she fussed over the placement of her goods.

"Twelve amazin' years." He smiled genuinely, thinking about the approaching end of this shift. He was ready to go home and see his beautiful wife and kids.

"What's your wife do?"

"Kick-ass lawyer and a even better mom." he said proudly, looking out over the crowd.

"How many kids?" the woman asked him, pegging him as the quintessential family man, judging from the way he brightened talking about his domestic life. She'd been at her station all day and was just as ready to go home to her brood as Rick was, but she'd love to go home having sold all her merchandise.

Rick pulled his phone from his pocket and displayed his lock screen in answer to her question. A snapshot of Michonne, Carl, Andre and Judith at the county fair left the woman 'awwing' sincerely at his picture perfect family. "How old is baby girl? Look at those cheeks! She's adorable."

"Sixteen months."

The woman gasped, "No way! And your wife has _that_ figure?! Holy cow! She's sexy as hell." She complimented his wife honestly and marked him as an easy sell. The uniform told her that he liked control and from the way he talked about his wife, she knew the love was there. She'd been thinking, if she was his wife, she'd be all over him all the time. Now that she saw his wife glowing in her crop top and denim skirt, she recognized that he was just as lucky as his missus. She felt a real obligation to add a little spice to their sex life. "No wonder you're eyeing my table."

"I wasn't ... I was just ..." Rick stammered on another dutiful survey of the area.

"Look, Deputy Grimes," she interrupted him, reading his name etched in gold on his name tag. She introduced herself, extending her hand for an official greeting. "I'm Crystal by the way." Rick looked around, unsure of the appropriateness of taking her hand but southern chivalry won out and he gave her a respectful handshake. "Mrs. Grimes is working hard being a kick-ass lawyer, giving you twelve amazing years of marriage and three beautiful kids - all while still maintaining that waist. She _deserves_ some extra special attention."

"We don't need all'a this extra stuff." Dismissing the ridiculous idea with a wave, he promised, "I handle thangs just fine on my own." He pulled his hand diagonally over his graying stubble with a candid cockiness that made the woman bite her lip, knowing he was telling the absolute truth.

"Guys always think this is about compensating where they're lacking." she shrugged. "It's not. This is just... the 'salt on steak', brings out more of the flavor. The meat is still the main attraction." Crystal widened her eyes suggestively, pulling the corner of her mouth into a conspiratorial smile. "I'm married." she said, establishing common ground and reminding herself of that fact in his striking presence. "I'm a mom. That's why I started this line. Because women work hard and we deserve every ounce of pleasure." she explained. "Look, I have no doubt you keep Mrs. Grimes more than satisfied in the bedroom, deputy. But if you could take it to another level for her, why wouldn't you?"

...

The sun was setting when Rick pulled into the garage of their large mission style bungalow next to his wife's car. He grabbed his purchase from the passenger seat, hidden in a gift bag with the same color scheme as the table he'd bought it from. He'd talked to Crystal for a while as she packed up her booth about the extraordinary intimacy that could be derived from a bit of bondage and dom/sub play. She gave him some practical advice and he felt confident in his ability to please his wife in this way.

He entered the mud room off the kitchen. He pulled off his bomber jacket and hung it on the hook and placed his boots neatly underneath, wondering at the unusual quiet in his house.

Normally, the thunderous charge of six little feet would rush him. His sons' excited voices vying to be acknowledged and his daughter's set of expressive eyes, that matched Michonne's, peering up at him under bronze curls. Her little chubby hands reaching up silently to hitch a ride on his hip. Rick was somewhat disappointed that his welcome wagon was missing but he was also relieved that little nosy people were not about to ask him what he had in the bag.

"Chonne!" he called to his wife as he made his way through the living room, headed toward the stairs to continue his search for her before he was interrupted by an obnoxious bump against his leg. He was appreciative of the reception from their smoke-colored cat, Misty. She officially belonged to his wife, but Michonne caught Rick spoiling the demanding feline more than he'd ever admit. "Hey." he stooped to pick up the purring cat and cradled her to his chest, scratching under her chin. He spoke into the top of her soft little head, "Where's mommy?"

"Right here. Waiting for daddy." Michonne appeared, answering him from the top of the staircase.

"There you are." Rick glanced up to his wife, immediately donning a smile at her presence and the sound of her voice but his eyes dropped right back to the golden pair of eyes looking up at him from his arms. "Kids in trouble?" he asked his wife, guessing at their absence, assuming she'd banished them to their rooms.

"Took them to my mom's." She answered him taking in the dark crown of his head as he nodded to whisper to the kitty. She loved that view of him. It was the view she got when he buried his face in the bowl of sugar between her legs and stayed there until he was satisfied with the pitch of her screams. He stood there, biceps noticeably flexed in his khaki uniform shirt, paying Misty more attention than Michonne could afford. She enviously shot to steal him back, "So, right now, you're stroking the wrong pussy."

He chuckled at first and it took him a moment to register her naughty words. He raised his eyes to her again, picking up on the dreamy tone of her voice and recognized the look on her face. He undid his gun belt with one hand and hung it over the back of the couch beside him, never taking his eyes off his woman.

Letting his eyes pour over her as she leaned her hip against the rich wood newel at the stair's top landing, he instantly sobered as her beauty fell upon him like a sensorial avalanche. The impact took his breath away. Her hair was left loose, framing her face with large brown curls. The _M_ pendant at her neck caught the dimmed lights around them but paled in comparison to the glimmer of her ebony skin pampered with peach scented coconut oil. The slip she wore was rose gold satin. Dainty cream lace, nearly transparent, hugged at her thighs and dressed the overflowing bounty of her breasts.

Her husband dropped his head for a second, intending to stifle the predatory instinct she'd sparked just that quickly. It didn't work. She was still perched on a slippery slope, his hungry hands waiting to grab her on her first false move ... just as she'd planned.

It was not her favorite thing for him to work the weekends, though, with his profession it was unavoidable. But today the beat he patrolled was full of horny porn stars. She was happy that he made it home unscathed by all the tits and ass strutting around him all day. Her being bad was his reward for being good and she knew exactly how to pull his trigger. Rick tried again to compose himself, pushing back his silky locks. He tilted his head, straining his neck with that signature twitch of aggression on a deep sigh.

"Really?" he asked her, nearly amused at her provocation. Keeping his head on a bowed lean, he raised only his electric blues.

The voltage of his challenging stare swept through her core like a taser's charge and she felt the involuntary contraction of her sex as her body silently clamored for his touch. Pulling her pouty lips to the side, she shrugged to let him decide who he'd prefer to have purring in his arms: her or the cat. Rick dropped Misty on the couch too and Michonne scoffed in victory when the four-legged fur ball meowed in protest.

He knew that skinny nude stiletto heel added inches to her height and would bring her lips, painted in a red wine tint, closer to his own once he stood face to face with her. Willing himself to keep his cool a little while longer until the real games began, he stalked his way slowly up the staircase.

Michonne turned, leaning forward and rested her forearms on the railing. Her plump backside elevated past the dip of her back and she looked to him, running the tip of her tongue across the plumpness of her top lip, she inquired and nodded to the package in his hand, "What's in the bag?" Looking over one shoulder then rolling her neck to look over the other. She followed his towering frame as he passed behind her and swiped his heavy hand across her splendid endowment of ass.

"I'll show you." He gestured to their bedroom with a slant of his head, indicating for her to lead the way. She took his free hand in both of hers retreating past the threshold, her teeth clamping to her bottom lip in anticipation.

The sun streamed into the room on a diagonal through the separations in the heavy neutral drapes. The last of the day's light fell across the heavy pale gold duvet between them where Michonne laid on her belly, ankles crossed and heels in the air and Rick stood facing her from the other side of the large square canopy bed. He pulled out his erotic acquisitions for his wife's perusal. A velvet blindfold, black satin wrist and ankle restraints, leather flogger, padded collar and chain link leash - all in black, made up the starter kit.

 _This is all about trust,_ Crystal had told him. _Don't push her. But if she really trusts you, she'll try it at least once, no matter how nervous she might be about it. And if you do it right, she'll be begging for it. It'll be the end of life as you know it._

Michonne remained quiet until the bag was empty. Rick watched her silently as she hooked the O-ring of the collar on her index finger. She lifted it from the bed, feeling out the cushioning of its underside, wrapped in soft satin. She looked up at him with her spice-colored eyes and then let them fall slowly back to the items on the bed. He had no idea what she was thinking, which was unusual. He shifted on his feet, ready to assure her that this wasn't about him being bored with her and that he wouldn't be upset if she said no. He reached out and tipped her chin upward, gathering her gaze back to the turquoise love in his eyes, "Michonne..."

"Okay." She softly agreed, catching him off guard. She moved to her hands and knees, crawling in front of him as a crooked smile of a glorious conquest threatened to break over his face. Michonne batted her lashes sleepily and he bent forward to kiss her. She slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips on an otherwise chaste kiss. Rising from her hands to pull his shirt out of his pants and release his buttons, she asked, "How do you want me?"

The rush of blood to his groin was so intense he had to tip his head back to the ceiling, holding tight to the sides of her face, as he contemplated the answer to that. On the way home, he had thought about letting her create the scene. But her confident words were betrayed by her dark begging eyes. He could see that look was familiar. She was begging to submit, begging him to take control of her body. It was what they did anyway, now that he thought about it. Adding toys to their experience _really would_ be just the salt on steak. "How do I want you?" he repeated, now burning through her with a devilish grin. His top lip quivered and his rustic drawl hung thick on his answer. A single word, "Ruined."

...

They agreed to a safe word and worked together, on opposite sides of the king size bed to strip it down to its crisp top sheet. With a blank canvas, Rick ordered his wife to the center of the bed. And she went there, in the muted light of the room. She sat with her heels pulled up to the backs of her thighs. Leaning on her hip, bracing herself on her arm with her palm flat against the mattress, she watched Rick reach for the restraints they'd moved to the nightstand. Her stomach seemed to flutter when he unfurled the straps of shiny fabric.

"Lie back." he said without any overture and she did, her hands folded neatly over her abdomen. "Arms over your head." He made loops for both of her wrists with the soft material and attached the length of surplus to the octagonal shapes in the bed frame's headboard. With her body stretched, he could see the quickened rise and fall of her chest through shallow breaths. "You good?" he asked her, ready to loosen the knots on her word.

"Yes." Michonne answered on a skittish chuckle. "It's just ... it's like our first time." she spoke shyly, studying the ceiling fan above her, instead of looking at Rick busy above her head. "Nerves... that's all."

"You weren't nervous our first time." He remembered with a sentimental smile.

"I _may_ have been somewhat tipsy." she confessed. "It was the only way I could tell you how I felt."

"I didn't know that. I feel kinda like a creep, now."

"Why? You were a real gentleman and I got everything I wanted." She finally took him in and they exchanged knowing looks.

"I got you tonight, too." He promised her, before everything went black behind the blindfold he slipped over her head. His voice seemed amplified and deeper with the loss of her sight and she unconsciously arched her back when his hand drifted over her neck and grazed her breasts as he moved away from her. "I won't promise to be a gentleman, but you're still gonna get ev'rythang you want.

Michonne smiled as desire pooled in the pit of her stomach at his brash guarantee. She could hear him undressing and she started to doubt the blindfold because she loved to see him shed his clothes for her. Most nights he came home to her working with her laptop on her thighs and no matter what she was in the middle of typing she stopped to watch him. His shoulder blades trundled with the muscles in his strong back as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. His forearms flexing below his well-defined abs while he removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants. She turned her head to his direction, though she was blind to his movements. She swore she could feel an energy come off of him, irradiated, almost nuclear, and her skin tingled from the heat.

She felt the bed sink as he climbed over her. She felt the warmth of his growing erection on her legs and she moved to spread her legs for him but he held her knees together. "Mm mnh. Not yet." Rick wanted to keep her on the edge of frenzy as long as he could. He ran his hands over the form fitting negligee, tortuously slow, from her thighs to her hips. He stopped at the curve of her waist, squeezing her petite form in his hulking hands, she twisted restlessly under his touch. His thumbs mirrored each other rubbing circles over her mound as he clutched to her tightly.

His hands began to travel again, up her heaving torso and he finally pushed his palms to cup her breasts firmly then cover them completely and squeeze, then release them with a soft caress. Rick saw her nipples budding like stems in spring time and slipped the straps off her shoulders, one then the other, and passed a finger under the lace at her breast. Goosebumps sprouted along the trail he left over her skin. He looked up at her lips parted for air, though she barely took a breath. He looked up at her secured fingers, intertwined, one hand gripping the other like a prayer for more.

She threw her hips forward and jerked them back. "Rick..."

"Shhh..." he covered her mouth with his, reminding her not to speak unless spoken to like he'd stipulated before they began.

Pulling the elastic lace of her neckline down to expose her breasts,he bit his lip as he watched them spill out and float in front of him. He moved his head slowly side to side to tease her dark peaks with his pulpy pink lips. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and finally gave her what he knew she wanted there. Setting his open mouth over her breast, he suckled that fleshy part of her hard, long and slow. She whimpered at the feeling, mindlessly tugging at the silky cuffs keeping her hands out of his hair, where they would surely be by now.

When he suggested they start with the two most basic items from his new bag of tricks, she concurred, thinking that removing her sense of sight and touch would not be such a radical change. She was wrong. Not being able to touch him, not being able to participate or please him back was a remarkable difference and she loved it and hated it at the same time. The opposing gut reactions made her feel confused, flushed and dizzy. She felt like she was falling, ascending, spinning in place as he continued ravaging her breasts and roughly hiked up the bottom hem of her attire. The thin garment she wore creased above her navel as he moved further down her body.

"How should I stroke this little pussy?" he rasped, his hot breath against her belly had her panting already. She felt like the slip knot cinching her wrists, where the slightest pull would unravel her and leave her in a limp chaotic state. "Hmm?" Rick prodded for an answer, with her thickset thigh in the vice of his grip.

She tried hard to return her brain to a working order but the crushing sense of craving weighed down her tongue.

"How should I stroke this pretty little pussy, Michonne?" he asked her again, now close enough to brush the glistening thatch of curls at the joining of her thighs with the whiskers covering his jaw. "Like this?" He brought a digit to his mouth, coating it with his saliva and slipped it past her slit.

Michonne moaned at the sensation of his big knuckle and long finger invading the softest part of her. Her jaw dropped, shaping her lips into an oval on a long gasp. He moved in and out, pulling the pad of his up-curved finger tensely over her g-spot. A drop of her wet readiness trickled slowly down the back of Rick's finger. When he saw that taste of her taunting him, he couldn't bear to lose a single drop to the threads of white Egyptian cotton serving as his plate.

"Answer me, like a good girl." he gruffly called to her from below as he removed his hand from between her thighs and ran the back of his finger over his tongue.

The loss of that stimulation gave her a chance to focus. "Okay." Michonne's voice offered on a weak retort. "Okay."

"Okay? Okay what?" Rick wondered softly at the unsuitable answer to his question. When she repeated the same breathless word, lifting her swooning head to see him and forgetting her blindfold, he smirked. "I said how should I stroke this thang. 'Okay' ain't no answer. You payin' attention?" he teased her drunken behavior.

Before she could try again, he captured that tricky congregation of nerves above her opening with his lips. He snarled, raking his teeth over that bit of her and she let out a heavenly whine. He went back again sweeping her clit into his mouth, then retreating to her opening to lap at the reward of her body's reaction. Michonne was now in a place fracturing from reality.

She was hard-pressed to recall how she'd even come to be in this state, in this tizzy, in these restraints, in the dark - and deeper than the pitch darkness making her blind. She was so sunken in the moment the darkness was light all around her, warm but blinding in itself. She winced at his performance as she felt him inveigle swarming embers of pleasure to centralize at her tingling nub. The spot that only the two of them had ever mastered the mechanics of.

She literally tasted like salted sugar and Rick went in for the kill, replacing his tongue with the rapid pressure of his thumb. She squealed desperately in response. "That ain't a answer either." he said after a narrow lick through her folds. "Imma stroke it like this."

Rick released his tongue to drive into her center. Pushing her thighs apart with both hands, he poked and wriggled and stirred and flicked his magical tongue inside her, pushing his face into her pussy like he was being barred from going home. Michonne's rampant panting reached a fevered pitch as she dug her heels into the mattress. She bucked so wildly, Rick only had to hold on to the cakes of her ass, giving her license to catch her climax any way she saw fit.

"Yeah..." he growled, "fuck daddy's face." He instructed her, feeling the approaching tidal wave. "God, You taste so good... Tha's right… Cum on my tongue, Michonne... "

And she did. Flaming as she fell, Michonne reached another astral plane like a comet on a journey a million light years long.

"You're such a good girl, baby. You did so good. I love you so much." Rick praised the teacher's pet and chased her down as her orgasm diminished, covering her soft quaking body with his own. He mused at the craft of her cheeks, the shape of her lips, and the lines of her neck. Without the distraction of her bewitching eyes his focus settled on the subtle slope of her nose and he nuzzled over it tenderly with his own. She felt his presence near her face and craned her neck to finesse his lips with a heart-shaped kissed that her husband quickly turned to a frantic tussle.

The band of black around her eyes, made her expressions more difficult to read which, in turn, made Rick more eager to please. He was rock hard and leaking his lust across the rise and fall of her belly, animated by her deep struggling breaths. He took himself, heavy in his hand and set up for conquest firm against her still slippery entrance. The immediate pleasure derived from the tightness of her heaven pushed a faithful "fuck' off his weary tongue, reviving the anatomical warrior.

Rick mumbled a dusting of profanities up and down her neck as he sucked and bit at her addictive skin. He went about ramming repeatedly past her inner walls, swollen with desire and his cock was drenched with her dewy indulgence. He held on to her, resting on his elbow. One hand snatched at the scruff of her neck and his other calloused mitt was at the back of her knee, pressing her thigh to her ribs. He was deeper than heartache and harder than heartbreak when his lady began to sing.

"Oh, Rick!" he startled a scratchy testimony of the waste he laid from her chest. She hissed as the head of his cock demolished her gripping canal. She made her own religion and rearranged the trinity calling his name, "Rick, Jesus… Oh, God!"

He eased up a little, not wanting to make her use her safe word on their first try at this. He'd promised her if it was too much, he'd stop. But the strain in his balls told him, he was at a point of no return. He was lucid enough to curtail the knock against her smaller frame, fully aware that, once he started cumming, his dick would operate with a mind of its own.

The thought of losing control and splashing his seed thick over the wreckage of her walls made it a reality. Michonne let go of a full-throated scream in feedback to his final thrusts as they connected with the dead end inside her.

Rick continued to rock against her effortlessly. He reached up to take her blindfold off her eyes, sweeping her long hair to the side as he pulled it away. The former sun-streaked room was now dark as if he'd set the sun with the power of his grind. Though her eyes were uncovered, she closed them, fatigued, as he pulled at her smooth restraints. Her husband caught her lifeless limbs, kissing at her wrists and knuckles as he untied her gently.

Rick was a puppeteer. He'd directed the show. Every movement was his design but the entire scene was brought to life only by his beautiful wife… now she laid wrecked in his arms. He pulled her strings and then left her collapsed like a wooden marionette.

They laid there in silence for a moment until Rick spoke up from his spot in the crook of her neck, "You okay?"

The question seemed insufficient no matter what angle Michonne came at it. She just sighed through a chuckle and splayed her fingers across his scalp, giving him a satisfied moan instead of an answer.

"Did I keep my promise to take care'a you?"

She threw her leg over his body and affirmed, "Thoroughly ruined."


	2. Judith's Casting Call- Chapter 2

This is the second chapter of a three-part story I did with **Tigerwalk** and **Sophiasown** called " **Judith's Casting Call** ". The story follows Judith Grimes as a spoiled rotten daddy's girl. She's trying to adapt to the coming new addition to her family. When she gets hurt, the family has to come together in classic Grimes 2.0 fashion. You can find the other chapters under the author: **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite**

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Shane was still trying to convince Michonne to calm down, even though she sat quietly with a stoic gaze out into the traffic ahead. She had been that way since he picked her up from the front of the courthouse and ferried her and her big belly into the front seat of the squad car.

"Chonne you okay over there?" He glanced at Michonne quickly then nervously put his eyes right back on the road. The thought of getting in an accident, himself, while bringing Michonne to the hospital was a heartstopping thought as he imagined explaining that to his best friend. He swallowed thickly, the heat of the day and the adrenaline evaporating all the moisture on his tongue. "Judy's gonna be fine. So don't worry. She's just a bit banged up. It looks worse than it is. But she'll be okay. She gonna be fine. Don't worry."

"Shane." Michonne finally stilled his nervous rambling, still trained on the brief sights in front of her being pulled out of view by their rate of speed. "Just get me there in one piece." She said attempting a smile. "I'm okay."

Michonne wasn't okay, though. The shaky words of consolation being delivered by Shane were not really helping. She wanted to, but she couldn't fall apart with her present company. _She's with her daddy, thank God. Rick is there with both of them._ She tried to calm herself with that thought and it worked to some extent. Only now she felt bad that she wasn't there with them. She tried to hide the rogue tear that slipped down her cheek, not wanting to hear Shane repeat his clumsy attempts to comfort her.

….

The first person she saw was Carl in the waiting area of the emergency room.

"Carl?" She said walking briskly toward where he sat hunched over in a chair as far away as he could be from the crowd of ailing people scattered throughout the space. He rose to his feet pensively, and wrapped his arms around the top of her jutting middle.

She kissed his head as he burst into tears, "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"It was an accident, Kiddo. That means it's nobody's fault."

"Dad's really mad at me."

"I'm sure dad's upset, but he's not mad at you, Carl. Come on. Let's go find your sister."

"That's okay. I'll wait out here."

"Carl…" She looked back at him expectantly. "She's going to be asking for you."

"Just tell her I'm out here waiting for them to patch her up." He gave her a weak smile and sat back in the spot she'd found him in. She didn't like how he was sounding at all. She wanted to sit down beside him and have one of their heart to hearts, but her little girl was actually the emergency she was there for. She decided to get back to the sentimental young man once Judith was squared away. "Michonne," Carl called her back with fresh tears welling, "and tell her I'm sorry."

A nurse pointed Michonne to exam room four and she power walked there, wincing as she pressed her palm back against the little rise rolling across her stomach. She pulled back the curtain and found Judith cuddled up to her daddy's chest. Her eyes were puffy from her earlier panicky cries and her uneven inhales rose her little body jerkily with every breath.

Michonne could see the threadlike lacerations made from the gravel mixed into the asphalt of their quaint little town's rarely gridlocked streets. She had kissed her baby girl goodbye this morning, reminding her to be on her best behavior for her brother. It was a necessary reminder for Judith Grimes.

She had talked to her little rascally blonde only an hour ago when Judith called to ask if she could walk to the store at the end of their block for a strawberry shortcake ice cream. Michonne had agreed as long as she held her brother's hand. After a quick bathroom break and a short conversation at Andrea's desk, Michonne's phone rang again. This time it was the sound of Rick's voice kicking her in the gut.

The contrast of the beet red color of road rash on Judith's milky skin was nearly a horror for Michonne to see in patches up her leg, down her upper arm and across nearly one half of her face. So quickly, too quickly, life can transport you from a typical, sluggish day to an ordeal you'd never have thought possible when the sun came up. Michonne wanted to cry now, too, but she couldn't upset Judith, so she took a deep breath and pushed her tears down underneath it.

Feeling her daddy shift in his chair toward the moving pink curtain, the little one lifted her wobbly head a bit when Michonne entered the room. Rick finally took his own breath when he saw his wife. He had been letting tears slip now and then thinking how, if things would have turned out differently, he wouldn't have even seen Judith's smile at all today or ever again. His early shift sent him out of the house in the dark of the morning with only Michonne's kiss. And though the day's events had him rethinking his early morning routine, it was still only Michonne's attention that he needed in this moment.

Rick spoke into Judith's hair, "Look honey, it's your mama."

"Mama, a car made me fall down." Judith's voice came out soft and sweet, a far departure from her usual spark plug nature.

"It did?" Michonne nearly faltered as her bottom lip began to quiver. She braced herself on Rick's shoulder, remembering her adjusted center of gravity, and smoothed her hand over Judith's tangled mess of yellow curls, tinged with a little blood. "Are you okay?"

Judith shook her head weakly. "My arm got broke.

Michonne looked to Rick for confirmation. He answered only with apologetic eyes. Shane had probably told her as much, but she honestly had not been listening to her wordy chauffeur in the least.

"But daddy can fix it." Judith said in a dreamy voice. "Daddy can fix everything. He can use his tools in the shed."

Michonne looked at Rick and they shared a smile. Michonne's face betrayed her confusion over Judith's irrational idea. Her husband brought her up to speed with the current situation. "They had to give her a lil' sumthin' so they could set the bone. She wouldn't let anyone touch it. I made them do it before you got here. She's high as a kite." He found a reason to chuckle. "She's been sayin' crazy stuff for the past twenty minutes. Just go with it. She'll be sorta out of it for awhile. We're waitin' for her cast."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"I need a pink cast with purple glitter, daddy."

"Oh, that would be pretty." Rick indulged her sweetly. "We'll ask the nurse, okay?"

Judith nodded slowly. Her eyes were heavy but she managed to look up at Michonne."What do you think mama?"

"That _would_ be so pretty. Michonne said in hushed excitement. "I think daddy's absolutely right."

"You think daddy's handsome, too. And daddy is strong. And he has all the tools in the shed. But we can't touch them because they're not for playing. He's so good at making stuff. He made my dollhouse and fixed my drawer with Philip's head…" Judith said, making her parent's smile. She would stand right beside her dad, asking him the name and function of every instrument he'd pick up. Rick was proud that she'd remembered. "... and Daddy made the tent when we go camping… but daddy why'd you make that baby in mama's tummy? You already got a baby."

…..

Michonne woke up from a much needed nap. She looked at the clock, then around the room for signs of Rick. Her full bladder flattened under the weight of the baby boy in her womb. She waddled to the toilet in her oversized sleep shirt, then out of her bedroom searching for her husband and kids.

Michonne heard the sound of Judith's chatter and went to check the precocious little girl's progress on the overhaul of her room that had become a pig stye over the past few days. Her mother decreed it be presentable by the time she woke up. Coming to stand at the threshold, she found her husband too. Michonne stood silently at the door, unobserved by the two usual partners in crime. Judith sat at her tiny white shabby chic table set with her dolls playing the talkative hostess and refilling tea cups with piping hot chamomile air.

Michonne saw Rick close Judith's dresser drawers with his hips, the contents of which were full of neatly folded bright and playful textiles. She watched for a moment more as Rick gathered an armful of scattered sandals and sneakers and deposited them neatly on her closet floor. Michonne cleared her throat, loud and deliberate, and the two oblivious occupants of the room jumped with guilty expressions.

Rick seemed to accept his fate immediately as Judith spoke up in a rush of contrite explanation, "Daddy was only helping, mama. I put all the toys away."

"Really, baby girl?" Michonne asked suspiciously. "Because it looks like you're _playing_ with your toys, not putting them away…" Judith looked around at the mess of her play area and recognized the uselessness of further perjuring herself. "Can I speak to you for a moment, daddy?"

Michonne had been clear: They couldn't keep treating Judith like an invalid. She was rotten enough as it was and Michonne was determined to bring Andre home to a big brother and a _big sister_. Not a competitor. When they found out she was pregnant, Rick had grudgingly agreed to cut back on coddling the daddy's girl so much. But her accident had kicked his spoiling nature back into high gear.

Once Michonne laid down to take her beloved Saturday nap, Judith tip-toed in her mother's room and made sure she was sleeping. Then she went to charm her daddy into doing her dark bidding using her bright blue eyes and snaggletoothed grin. When she interrupted the tinkering he was doing in his shed and asked him to help her clean her room while she made him fake tea and doughnuts, he had caved. Soon into the tea party, he noticed he wasn't actually helping as much as he was just cleaning her room for her. Rick chuckled at how she had hustled him and knew she got it honest from Michonne Grimes.

Now, caught red handed, he wanted to know how much trouble he was in. Was he about to be questioned as a witness to Judith's crimes or on trial for his own. "Is this a subpoena or a summons?" He asked sheepishly with a smile.

As mad as Michonne was she couldn't ignore the curl in the corner of his lips that was serving her tall, dark and handsome devil. She didn't answer him. She only narrowed her eyes to demonstrate and bolster her seriousness... and also to blur his rugged good looks. She waved him forward and he came with his tail between his bowed legs. Rick squeezed past Michonne's heavily pregnant body into the hallway, still smirking like the problem kid on his way to the principal. "Judy, I want this room clean, sweetie, and I want _you_ to do it."

Michonne remembered, then, that her daughter had one other possible minion. "Carl!" She called and he opened the door to his room, giving him a clear view past his parents, into his little sister's abode. "Carl, your sister is cleaning her room by herself, okay? She doesn't need help."

Michonne said, nodding at Rick to start walking.

Carl silently watched his parents walk toward their room and then looked back to Judith who was doing the most directing her version of puppy dog eyes straight into her brother's heart. Judith picked up a toy with her injured arm and dropped it, grimacing through pain as fake as her tea time feast. She held her pink cast dramatically. Carl was still deeply remorseful about his role in her accident. He was nearly as malleable as Rick when it came to being wrapped around the rule-breaker's little finger. His guilt was like a wound, made even more painful by his father's ongoing disappointment. Michonne told him many times that it wasn't his fault but Rick's demeanor, although unintentional, said different.

It was a rule in the Grimes household that any disagreement requiring a "talk" talk would take place in private. Rick and Lori had the same rule, but Carl often heard their war of words through the walls. So the new family's rule also included no raised voices during disagreements. They stood in front of one another on Rick's side of the bed, furthest from the locked bedroom door. Michonne was ready to wear him out with some furious whispers. Though she didn't really have to open her mouth, her face said it all.

"Michonne.." Rick began, trying to placate her in advance of the coming castigation.

"Nope. Overruled."

Rick chuckled, crossing his arms. He wrinkled his brows in confusion. "Your _name_ is overruled?"

"You know what I mean."

"Okay…"

Michonne continued waving her hands in protest, "Nothing you say is admissible. We talked about this, Rick. We agreed. You said you agreed!" She pulled her volume in on a glance toward the door. "Judy needs to be given more responsibilities and expected to behave like a big girl. She's old enough..."

Whenever Michonne turned into Claire Huxtable with the lawyer speak, Rick knew she was pissed. He put his hands up to calm her down. She was already into her closing arguments before he'd said two words. "Hold on Mrs. Grimes, may I answer?"

His wife crossed her arms atop her belly. "Proceed." she said with a calmer inflection but no less attitude.

"In my defense, she lured me up here with the promise of free fake doughnuts." He threw a hand back to the door along with his cupulbility. "Since when is it a crime to enjoy a plastic doughnut with my daughter?"

"So how is it that you ended up cleaning in her room?"

"She was cute?" He shrugged, still trying to make light of the situation.

"Weeks, Rick! We have weeks…" Michonne lit into him. "You might as well say days, the weeks are so few, and there will be an actual newborn baby in this house. Now Judith had a good run. But you aren't doing her any favors babying her like you do. She will always be the baby girl, but she's got to be a big girl, too."

"She's just a kid, Michonne. I just want her to be a kid as long as possible, I guess." He shrugged. "Before the world can really hurt her." Rick explained, thinking of all the ways life could break you that would make a broken arm pale in comparison. Right now, though, a fractured bone was good enough to submit as evidence of his wife's groundless accusations. "She's got a broken arm." Rick said in a cool rebuttal, "She's legitimately handicapped. Some people might call you heartless." Rick dared and crossed his arms, mirroring her defensive stance.

"Well, _some people_ better watch their mouths." She said warning him. He lowered his head to hide his amusement at her threats spilling over the biggest cutest belly he'd ever seen. "But I'm glad you brought up heartless… I see your name on the docket for a civil action…"

"What?" Rick thought he was keeping up with her lingo but now found himself confused.

"The way you've been treating Carl…?"

"How have I been treatin' Carl?" he asked, teetering on playing dumb and actual ignorance.

After a gasp, Michonne widened her eyes and shouted as best she could without raising her voice. "Like this whole thing is his fault!"

"Well, he was supposed to be holdin' her hand."

"And he was, she pulled away from him."

"So it's _her_ fault?"

"I'm not assigning guilt in that case. It was an accident. Accidents happen. I just thank God she's okay." She rubbed her face feeling the stress of that day all over again. She changed her focus quickly. "What is _not_ an accident is the conscious decision you made to violate the agreement we made to have her pull her weight around here."

Rick shook his head in bashful defeat in the face of her arguments. He resorted to his only means of defense, pulling her arms away from her chest to hold both her hands in his. "Okay, okay… I'm sorry. You're right, that was the deal." He admitted, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. "But I'm not as strong as you are, Chonne. You and Judy can play me like a fiddle. You don't even have to try. Either of you gives me those eyes… I feel like I'm in the Matrix. Blue pill, brown pill, blue pill, brown pill…" Michonne shifted her weight to one leg in a cute little lean. In a heartbeat she melted from her cold courtroom persona and gave him the very brown eyed look he described. "See! Y'all are drivin' me crazy… I plead not guilty by reason of insanity."

Finally, Michonne broke completely and gave him a giggle. In all honesty, she knew his predicament. Caught between a rock such as herself and the hard place of his only daughter's affection, she decided she'd allow for mitigating factors before making her ruling. "Look, Rick." She sat on the bed, looking up at him and started with a less judicial tone, "The two of us have to be on the same page. We're about to be outnumbered in the house. Little Miss Judy can not be running things up in here. I know she was hurt, but if she can run around all morning at the playground like she did today, she can come home and clean her room."

"I know, I know…" He sat beside her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he really thought about what she was saying. The new addition to their family was not going to make parenting any easier.

"And Carl walked her there and back safely today like he has so many other times. I don't think that one incident should tarnish his entire record as a big brother. He loves her so much and wants to make you proud more than anything. Judith's scars are already healing, Carl deserves that too."

"You're right. I'll talk to him." Rick promised with a sigh as he fell back onto the swirl of sheets she'd left from her nap. "I just…" He placed a hand on his chest and cupped his other arm around her bottom, caressing her thigh as she looked over her shoulder at him. He felt that she wasn't wearing any underwear and his eyes went to the swell of her resting backside before he got himself together and focused on his words again. "I just work a dangerous job. If anything happens to me, Carl's gonna be the man of the house. I want him to be responsible and mature enough to look after you guys."

With Rick's confession hitting her, her heart went out to her husband. She would never have known he thought that way. He had them set up financially if the unspeakable should happen, but to hear him worry over their well-being beyond that, made her love him so much more. And there wasn't any question that Carl would always live up to his father's expectations. Michonne raised herself a little, turning to face her husband for a better view of his fretful features, she placed her hand over the one on his heart. "Rick, Carl is also a kid. How about we let them both be kids… who are responsible for contributing to the household in age-appropriate ways. Besides..." she decided to tease him now, "who says I won't remarry?"

"I do!" He said with a straight face, sending Michonne tumbling her face onto his chest in hearty laughter. "Hey, don't laugh! Michonne. Hey.." He tried to capture her gaze and get her attention but she kept falling over top of him, weak from his state of alarm. Rick captured both her cheeks in his hands and spoke seriously through her laughter. "Anything happens to me I forbid you to remarry…"

Michonne was still in stitches, "Forbid?"

"Yeah. Forbid." He said pulling her lips to his for a series of sensual pecks that morphed into moaning tongue tussling as Michonne dispatched her hand to travel down his torso to rub along the tent he was pitching in his pants. He slipped his wide palm from her cheek to her neck. He released her lips long enough to bury his face in her hair, his lips on her ear, he suggested with a low rumble, "So you better get as much of this lovin' as you can... _while_ you can."

Refreshed from her nap, she had just enough energy to share an orgasm with her husband. She unbuckled his belt while he pushed his jeans from his hips. It dawned on her, as she threw a knee over his body to straddle him, that this may have been his plan all along- to end up in the bedroom behind a locked door on the receiving end of her passion. The thought made her smile as he reached a hand under the shade of her heavy form.

Michonne murmured out her approval as Rick held her with one hand full of her ass and his other palm clutching her inner thigh, he swiped his coated thumb up from her moistening entrance to her sublime hub of sensation, just above. He pressed her button as she began rolling her pelvis against the pressure. She had her cocoa butter soft fingers wrapped around his statuesque length, her upward stroke of his rigid member made his legs tense and his palms squeeze her tighter.

"Come on. Sit on it, Michonne." Rick pulled at her bottom half, smiling up at the telling hints written all over her body- her hooded eyes, her parted lips, the peaks of her breasts emerging through the soft jersey material of her shirt. "You know you want to. Let daddy put you right back to sleep." He said as he started to move his hands slowly all over her body in the most sensually hypnotic way. She eased her ready sex onto his, moaning euphorically as she settled down on top of him to the view of the tip of his soft pink tongue licking over his soft pink lips. "Stay right there."

He lifted his back off the bed, molding his body around the curve of her big happy belly to attack her lips once more. Guiding him to the exact spot inside her where she needed him to be, her eyes drifted back, shut up tightly between her lids. Michonne started to move and Rick descended back to the level of the bed, keeping her in his intense gaze in anticipation of seeing her break apart all over him.

"Mama!" Judith's voice came through the door accompanied by a steady frantic knock.

Michonne licked her lips and rolled her eyes in a very different way than she had just a moment ago. Her face was twisted in agony as Rick brought his palms down the front of his face in frustration.

"Yes, sweetie? What's up?" Michonne called back sweetly.

"Come see my room! It's clean."

"Okay, baby girl. Give mama ten minutes." Michonne requested, in a nosedive to reach her husband's lips again.

"Ten minutes?" Judith was dumbfounded. To her parents chagrin, she insisted, "You gotta come now, mama! My room will be messy again if you wait that long!"


	3. Room 2469- Chapter 7

This is a chapter from a big collaboration I did with **CarribeanQueen** , **Sophiasown** , **jonesywrites** , **Fik Freak** , **Tigerwalk** , **Nyese3529** , **thematsaidwelcome **& **Winterscorpion** for **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite** called " **Room 2469** ". The entire story follows Rick and Michonne as they meet, fall in love and grow. Every year they come back to the same hotel room where they met. I am very proud of this entire story.

This chapter centers on their 4th anniversary. The traditional gifts for this year are fruits or flowers. After being together for 6 years, they experience a bit of angst but still prove that nothing can stop their love. _Written to: "Cause I Love You" by Lenny Williams_

* * *

Rain was coming down in buckets outside when Rick trudged into the hotel from his car, looking like a wet dog. He felt worse than one, like a sick old stray left battered to the world. He simply wanted to shake and get out of the tortured headspace he'd been in on the way to the hotel.

He never should have said what he said. He wasn't snooping. He saw what he saw, but he never should have said what he said.

He'd been stabbed in the heart, though, with the smoothness of a katana's blade. It was a deathblow delivered without a ripple in the monotony of the morning, he'd barely noticed it at first.

….

That day started like any other- in a happy sort of chaos. Rick could hear Michonne chasing their toddler down the hall, trying to get his shoes on. Their oldest boy had an aversion to footwear and catching him to put on his sneakers was always the last ordeal of the morning. He left his wife to that conquest while he stood watch on Andre duty.

The baby boy sat, fully dressed in a tiny pair of khaki cargo pants and a boldly printed navy t-shirt, his big brown curls sitting like a halo on his head. The blanket he sat on in the middle of their bedroom was surrounded by noisy, blinking toys, all of which were taking turns being covered with the goo of his saliva. The little guy had only been a Grimes for six months, but he and Rick got along great. Even teething, he was a breeze. His father glanced at him, meeting his wide, dripping smile with an adoring chuckle.

"Hey buddy." Rick engaged the baby, "You hear your big brother givin' mama a hard time?" Andre's eyes brightened in response as his dad lifted the bottom of his white t-shirt and swiped deodorant under both arms. Michonne's phone sat on their dresser and the flash of a message called his attention to the screen.

He knew his wife was on a serious grind to catch up on cases after her maternity leave. She had also agreed to handle the annual conference presentations, chomping at the carrot of Negan's mention that she was his favorite and well on her way to becoming a partner quicker than anyone he'd ever seen. Rick didn't like that she had to put in double the amount of everyone's effort at work, determined to prove that being a mother of two would not make her less effective in the courtroom. Still, knowing Michonne's ambitions, her husband made an effort to support her fully and that meant re-adjusting his attitude on how much her work life spilled over into their home life. Rick was just about to tell her she had a new text as he went for a pair of socks. But his voice went dry when he cocked his head and read,

 **Good morning, beautiful**

His heartbeat seemed to slow but it's drubbing intensified as he snatched up her phone and the device read his fingerprint to unlock. There it was, big and blatant as a mushroom cloud. **Good morning, beautiful.** Someone, he looked at the sender's name: Michael Murray… was way out of pocket with his wife. It wasn't unusual for men to come on to Michonne. She was beautiful. Michael wasn't lying. For Rick, though, reading this as he stood in their bedroom, where he made love to her and where his son was playing innocently, was an intrusion that made his blood boil.

He looked back at Andre who was contentedly occupied as he scrolled up to see what else Michael had been saying to his wife. He saw six more early morning texts identical to the one he'd just come across. Other conversations read like-

8:34 Michonne: Lots of cream and lots of sugar

8:35 Michael: Sounds good to me

11:56 Michael: Can't take my eyes off you today.

12:34 Michonne: Please review the file again

4:17 Michael: I'm hitting a dead end with this. Do you mind staying late? I need you.

Rick pulled his hand over his face slowly depressing his toned chest with a sigh. He looked at Andre again. The baby's smile was gone and father and son looked at each other with the same suddenly doleful expression.

When Michonne came to the door smiling at Rick, summoning him to help her strap the boys in their carseats, he simply nodded and followed her with the baby in his arms. He kissed them all goodbye and watched them pull out of the driveway. Ten minutes later he realized he was standing in the same spot smothered by the thick bombardment of his agonizing thoughts.

He had thought they were happy. He thought his wife loved him. No, she did. He knew she did. He always felt that in her touch, in her kiss. He knew she did. But if she did, she hadn't informed this man at her job, apparently.

A shard of doubt about the mother of his precious children seemed to slice wildly at the idyllic family portrait in his mind and he teetered on the verge of a blinding migraine. Rick would have staked his life on the fact that his wife was incorruptible in her practice, but even more so in their marriage. She was not only dutiful, but a fierce defender of their family… of their love.

In the short threads of daily texts, Rick could see that Michonne gave her admirer no amenable responses. That made Rick somewhat hopeful. But nowhere did he read one line of refusal from his mate. Her lack of resistance explained his rival's persistence and Rick didn't know if hope, in the face of textual proof, could be sustained.

He knew Michonne was clever, wily even. He would never forget the weekend they met and her unflappable shrewdness in the face of the harsh badgering he and his colleagues put her through during her first go as a lead presenter. Her quickness and ability to pivot and turn the tables when she was pressed, always amazed and, honestly, intimidated him. He would often joke that he was glad she was on his side.

Rick had no doubt that she was smart enough to avoid texting anything that could make her seem at fault. But she didn't seem to care enough to delete the messages she was receiving, even though she knew he had access to her phone. Somehow that felt intentional, and it stung even more that she didn't care enough about his feelings to make sure that he never caught wind. He wondered what Michonne and Michael said to each other when they were face to face. He couldn't help putting on his investigative hat and questioning whether her late nights at work were really about work.

….

"Tell me about that new guy at your job." Rick asked her, trying to find his most civil tone. The tender tone he'd normally take with the love of his life faltered as he forced his way into a line of questioning. He broke into a nervous sweat as he felt his inability to be objective with the person he was closest to ramping up his aggression. He leaned against their dresser, watching her shuffle about the room gathering her last bit of essentials for her overnight trip to New York.

Michonne threw her plastic bagged toothbrush into her suitcase and raised a quizzical brow. "Who, Mike?"

"Yeah. He's goin' to New York with you for the conference, right?"

"Yeah, with me, Andrea and Aaron."

"So tell me about him."

Mike Murray had been with the firm going on two months. Working directly with her, learning the ins and outs of the agency. Michonne had mentioned the new hire to her husband and his name was often deposited here and there in her tales of lawyering, but it had never set off any alarms for Rick.

If he would have had reservations about any of the guys she worked with, Negan's name would have been at the top of the list. But Rick knew his wife couldn't stand the man- and not the kind of dislike that throws you for a loop and then turns to love after a hotel mix up. Michonne despised the managing partner, often referring to him as a "jackal in pinstripes".

Now, Rick was racking his brain trying to access a mental transcript of her many courtroom tales in which her male coworker was referenced. But the blankness of his recollection proved that he wasn't absorbing anything she'd shared with him over the past few months.

He had been preoccupied with his work as a liason, coordinating with DC Police for the upcoming Cherry Blossom Festival. He had been trying to keep the construction of their new home on track. He never knew when he had those blueprints drawn up that providing her with the home of her dreams would turn out to be a nightmare. One step forward in construction would somehow result in two steps back. When he factored in the strain he'd been under picking up the slack at home because of the demands she faced at work, he saw now that he should've been paying his wife more attention.

He knew that most men in his situation would expect a pass, with all they had going on as a couple. But he didn't ever want to be "most men" when it came to Michonne. And yet, in spite of that conscious decision to be an extraordinary husband, he was feeling like most men would as he waited for his wife to fill him in on the details of her connection to Michael Murray.

"You want me to tell you about Mike? For what?" She chuckled, genuinely confused by his sudden curiosity.

"What's funny about that Michonne? You don't wanna tell me about 'em?" He asked exhibiting a little frustration. It was like she was making him the butt of an inside joke and the feeling it gave him was one he never thought he'd have with the woman who always made him smile. "Why? Is he a secret?"

Rick was trying to ease into a civilized conversation about this, but he was failing miserably. Without much calculating, Michonne realized that her husband must have seen the texts on her phone. She went quiet to study his reaction. And Rick went quiet as well when he saw recognition on Michonne's face- that she knew what he knew. Her guilty expression was an instant blow to his already floundering heart.

"What do you want me to say, Rick?" she finally spoke up after what seemed like an entire season. A season where life began to wither. A season that would leave them in a bleak and barren landscape. "If you listened to anything I say, you could compile an entire dossier on Mike Murray. He's a young buck trying to navigate the real world." She began a run down of the things about him that Rick should know from her recently lopsided conversations with him. "He's studying to take the bar. He's ambitious... he's saved Andrea's ass multiple times. He makes a decent cup of coffee. He's the only black guy at the firm…"

"And he can't take his eyes off of you, right?" Michonne's list was interrupted by Rick's unexpected contribution. Her mouth immediately closed and he repeated himself, nearly out of breath from the effort it took to expose her, "He can't take his eyes off you… which means he can see."

"So, he has a crush." Michonne shrugged. "I don't give him the time of day."

Rick continued as though she hadn't said anything, "He's not blind. Right, Michonne? Which means he can see that ring on your finger. But maybe you're blind?" He suggested over the cracking of his mournful voice. "Maybe you didn't see those texts he's been sending you every day. Maybe I need _my_ eyes checked… because I didn't see any texts from you telling him to stop…"

She could not abide his obvious disappointment in her, justified or not, when she'd been immersed in her own silent disappointment with him for months. Her emotions boiled over. "And I haven't seen one text from you in months telling me that I'm beautiful or that you're thinking about me during the day! We can check your texts right now! " She screamed back at him and then quieted, "You used to... "

Rick lost his voice, ashamed that she was right. He had promised her when Carl was born that no matter how things changed, he would always make sure she knew how beautiful she was. He promised her he'd always prove how much he loved her, that they were still a "we", still an "us". It was obvious he hadn't kept that promise. He didn't need to read through the texts between he and his wife to see that their positions at home had depreciated from devoted lovers to the overworked operations managers of their family.

He could fix that and he would. But there was no way in hell he was going to send her off to an overnight trip with a guy trying to take his place.

"Don't go to New York."

"What?"

"Don't go to New York… get somebody to fill in for you."

"I have to go, Rick. I'm the senior associate…"

"Look," he said taking one long stride away from the dresser toward her, "this conference is already stealin' one of our nights at the hotel."

"Sometimes we can't do the whole weekend. You said that was okay. It's not like we're _not_ doing it this year. I'm still meeting you there." She softened her voice, "I would never miss our weekend for anything."

Again he bulldozed over her words, finding little meaning to them now, "I don't like it, how much you're gone... But I'm used to it. Your job is always stealin' you away. I know we gotta make sacrifices as a family… as a couple… but this is one thang I won't sacrifice." Michonne scoffed, but Rick was heading toward a foolish ultimatum. He reached out on a gentle grasp of her arms to ensure her full attention and it worked as her eyes whipped back and forth between his own in anticipation for what he was about to say. "If you love me you wont go… Michonne…"

She snatched away from him in disbelief. "I can't _not_ go! At the last minute? Negan would have my head." She hyperbolized. "This conference is more important than the ones we've had in Alexandria and he hand picked me to do this… I'd be dumping everything on Andrea if I don't go…" She understood that maybe he felt a little threatened. The knowledge that her actions finally mattered to him again, _that he saw her_ , gave her a warmness that she felt wrong for feeling, but asking her to skip the conference was ridiculous. "What do you think, Rick?" A dry, incredulous laugh prefaced the glibness to follow, "Do you think I'm going to go to New York and fuck this guy? You think I would do that?"

Mike was a nice guy. In a firm where there were 40 employees and only 4 were black, Michonne couldn't deny that he was somewhat of a comfort to talk to. Them working so closely together, her being his mentor of sorts, had made it easy for him to develop feelings for her. Not to mention she was just a gorgeous, intelligent woman. But his infatuation with her was where any impulsiveness stopped.

"I don't know what to think Michonne." He took a step back from her then as his gaze fell to the plush carpet under their feet. "I didn't think you'd entertain this guy at all. I woulda put my life on that… our sons..." An accusation was poorly stitched between the lines of his words.

"Rick…look at me." His eyes fell on her then fell away as if the sight of her were a gruesome crime scene. She swallowed, nervously readying herself to give him a chance to change the doomed direction of this conversation. "You really think I would..."

"You've done it before…" His words took a nosedive into the cesspool soup that was made up of her passive aggressive indiscretions mixed with his scars from past betrayals, guilt and insecurities, all simmering on the heat of a hectic life.

The whitecaps of his insinuation swept over his wife leaving her aghast and stifling her sobs while spilling a flash of tears. She couldn't believe he would throw their first time together back in her face. She couldn't comprehend a scenario where her husband would use their magnetic attraction to each other, all those years ago, as a weapon against her. She squinted to filter some of the affliction in his storm blue eyes and nodded her head reflexively, surrendering weakly to his implications.

Michonne could not release another word through the convulsive cries bubbling up and pushing past her resolve. She closed and zipped her luggage as Rick offered a hollow, tepid retraction. She went downstairs to wait in the dark for Andrea to pick her up.

Stubbornly, Rick sat on their bed behind his line in the sand. The house was eerily quiet as their boys slept in their beds unaware of the turmoil breaking over seven years of love. Mr. and Mrs. Grimes' hearts pinged like a dull chisel against the hardened walls of guilt heavy on both their chests.

Ten minutes later Rick heard the single beep of Andrea's horn followed by the slow quiet shut of their front door. He stood pacing and wringing his hands to his chest. Michonne did not say goodbye.

….

Rick awoke in the mid-afternoon.

Last night, when he hadn't heard a word from his wife, his anger turned to worry. He couldn't sleep thinking of all manner of tragedies that could befall them, effectively making their last conversation their _final_ conversation. He bit the bullet and texted Andrea after his texts to Michonne went unanswered and her friend confirmed that they'd arrived safely to their destination.

After one night alone in the hotel room where they celebrated so many milestones, he was keenly aware that staying there any longer would simply be torture. This was where he proposed. This was where she had trusted him to breakthrough her disillusioned self-image after she gave him his first son. This was where she'd jumped his bones without mercy while she carried their second. This room served as an actual marker to the most cherished events on their shared timeline.

He knew there had been plenty of opportunities for her to get in touch with him if she wanted to. Seeing the time, he knew her presentations were over. If she was still too pissed to text or call, he knew she wouldn't make the effort to come to him. He knew she would be eager to get back home to the boys. So he cut his losses and rolled out of bed on an amble to the shower where he could think of a way to make it alright again.

In his restless state last night, he went a bit stir crazy and decided to defy the rain, walking the streets of Alexandria. He passed the courtyard where he'd been jealous of her dancing with Aaron and, even in his mood, he had to laugh at how his officer's intuition failed him completely in reading that situation. He passed the empty restaurant where he'd enjoyed the burn of a particularly good scotch, but his reminiscing kept drifting to the heat of the sweet honey Michonne served him the next morning. And now he saw the light from an open sign in the row of dark storefronts and he obeyed his impulse to get her another anniversary gift to go along with the peach tree he had planted on his grandparents gifted land. He entered the establishment and flipped through a catalog in search of something worthy of her name.

Rick had become even more certain of the fundamental truths in his life. The most important truth was that he loved Michonne more than anything. His pride, his fears, his sanity- all paled in comparison to the torch of love he carried for her, a blaze he would never put down. He realized that regardless of their mistakes, they shared one heart. He counted his blessings, that seven years in, this was their first big fight and it was nothing knot they tied could never be undone.

He had thought they had the perfect marriage. But on further reflection, so many things considered perfect are fragile, teetering on collapse. But their kind of perfection was real. He had the epiphany that their Garden of Eden had weathered a natural disaster. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this was a chance to make them stronger, to get a tighter grasp on their changing needs and adapt accordingly. It was time to rebuild.

Now, he stepped out of the shower and wiped the fog from the mirror, dripping like he'd been when he arrived in the rain yesterday. But today, he could look himself in the eye, feeling less like a stray. He was invigorated and anxious to get home to see her face, but there was also a caveat of sadness that their tradition of a yearly romantic rendezvous had been broken.

Rick made a few deft passes over his chest and hair with the thick cotton towel, then wrapped it around his waist to leave the humidity of the bathroom. He draped another towel around his neck hanging over the width of his chest. Grabbing a handful of his toiletries to pack, he opened the door to the sight of his wife in the swivel chair across the room.

Her black trench coat was still decorated with the glimmer of droplets of rain as she sat, shoulders slumped pulling nervously at her thumb. The clouds in the roiling sky outside added to the gloom the drawn curtains created. The soft white glow of light from the bathroom's fluorescent bulbs framed his tall stature in the threshold. He regretted the darkness that gave him comfort in her absence as the flawless motif of her garnet eyes was veiled in the shadowy room. He flipped the light switch on the wall next to him. She looked up at him and a low rumble of thunder seemed to shake the walls from within. Rick stood fixed in his place by the desperation in her voice,

"Rick, please, let me talk." she said putting up a palm to shield herself from any resentments she thought he might still be nursing. "I was wrong not to put Mike in his place. That's on me 100%. I don't even know what I was thinking. Looking back, it's like an out of body experience. But I want you to know that _nothing_ ever happened between us. Really. I never said one word to him that I would take back… it's the things I should have told him…" She sniffled and wiped her tears with her fingertips. "I did tell him, before the conference, that our relationship is and always will be a professional one. He knows that I mean it." She said strongly. "He doesn't want an issue with HR and he apologized for his behavior."

A smile crept to Rick's lips. This was his wife. She was back. This was the woman he never doubted. He could just imagine the stern tone she took with Mike as she laid down the law and took a stand for their love and their future.

"Michonne…" he stepped forward, needing to console her as she burst into tears.

"How can I ever apologize for _my_ behavior?" She held her face in her hands as he knelt before her, rubbing the side of her thigh through the light suede fabric of her dress. "I would never hurt you, Rick. I love you so much."

He pulled her hands from her face with a determined grip, "Look at me, Michonne." he demanded gruffly. "Whatever you regret as my wife are my failings as your husband. I gave him that opening. I was neglectful of your heart. I always promised you it would never be that way between us and I let you down." He spoke softly now, nuzzling his face to hers and he squeezed hard at the space just above her hip bone to emphasize his point. "I'm so sorry, baby."

Rick kissed her. It was just a brief touch to her plump lips, just a breeze from the hurricane to come.

"I need you, Rick." She kissed him back hungrily, the soapy scent of his skin filling her nostrils with almond and sandalwood. "I only want you." she assured him between the roaming movements of their tongues. "I belong to you… always."

"Always, baby." Rick knew that, no matter what the story was between her and Mike. Michonne belonged to him as much as his own skin did. He stood up pulling her out of her chair. He had to feel her body pressed against him. He had to feel her in his arms, where she was supposed to be. "Always."

He pushed her thin overcoat away from the smooth skin of her shoulders and it dropped to the floor at her bare feet. He looked down at her, the low simple scoop neck of her deep red midi length dress gave him a view that made his mouth water. On measured bites and kisses to her neck, he expertly found the side zipper and pulled the garment away trying not to rip one of his favorites the way his burly hands often could. She placed her arms on the towel around his neck as he gathered her up, now in her red and black rose patterned thong and push up bra, resting her thick cheeks in his dominating clutch.

The jostling of her thighs around his waist loosened the tuck of his towel there and he lost it as he made his way to the bed. His whopping cock was tickled pink, happy to be free and wrapped in the caress of her soft fingers as she reached behind and under her to feel the power of the champion set to enter the ring and batter her walls to a TKO.

Laying her down on the bed, Rick hovered over her on the brace of his ropy arms. Michonne splayed her fingers across his chest, still so addicted to the feel of him after all these years. She moved the towel away to see his broad upper body, when her hand grazed the gauze taped to his chest.

"What's this?" she gasped, sitting up a little to examine the bandage, "What happened, Rick? Were you hurt?"

"I'm okay." Rick looked down, remembering the dressing his wife was eyeing with concern then went right back to feeding on her supple skin. He rolled his hips, pressing her clit with his erection, King County rolling off his tongue, vibrating the surface of her neck as he spoke into her ear, "This is for you, Princess. Flowers for anniversary number four."

"For me?" She had no clue what he could mean. "What is it?"

He pulled away from her and stared into her eyes. "Peel it off and see."

Following his instructions, she uncovered the protected spot over his heart to find a shiny patch of skin boasting his first and only tattoo. The scrolling calligraphy spelled her name below a large, black blossoming rose flanked by two smaller ones. It was gorgeous and sleek against his creamy complexion.

Michonne took it in. The reference to her and their children was not lost on her. She couldn't believe he'd committed to such a permanent gesture after the blow up they'd had. "It's beautiful, Rick." she said as her voice crackled with emotion. I can't believe… after everything…"

He kissed her lips to stop her from saying anything else. "After everythang, I still love you. That'll never change." Rick promised, releasing her breasts from the cups of her bra and savoring the taste of her stiffened nipples, pressing them between his lips and circling them with his warm wet tongue. "How much I want you…" he pulled her thong to the side and pushed into her with a passive grind and a drowsy declaration, "How much I need you, that'll never change."

"I need you too, Rick." she told him through a breathy moan as he filled her up, causing her to arch her back and spread her knees wider to accommodate him.

"I need to work this wet pussy, baby." he hissed, charging past the eager grip of her inner walls. "I wanna feel you break apart, Michonne. I wanna see you cry for this dick…" he went deeper, banging against her with a resolute force, "C'mon, Princess. Tell me that's what you want."

"Yes…" she managed, pulling him closer for another absorbing attack of his lips. "That's what I want."

The sound of her asking for everything he wanted to give her made him groan as he quickened his pace, growing harder inside her. Her toes stretched along with her walls and her juices wet up his balls as they smacked against her ass. "I wanna make you scream." he confessed, his breathing intensifying with every knocking thrust.

"Ah… ah… ah… unh! Unh!"

Knowing exactly how to achieve his goal, he pulled out of her and flipped her over. Pulling her to the edge of the bed on all fours, he stood behind her, ready to go.

Michonne winced when her husband smacked her ass while she backed it up on his slippery dick, begging with her winding hips to feel him again. He tweaked her nipple as he wrapped an arm around her, sliding his hand down to rub her tingling nexus of nerves until her legs shook and she saw stars behind the hoods of her eyes.

She held her position with one hand and reached between her legs trying desperately to guide him back inside her but he knocked her hand away,

"Say you want it like that, Michonne."

She only whimpered and tried again, but he pushed her hand out of reach. He leaned over her body with her disobedient wrist in a vice grip, grounded to the mattress

"Say it." he growled letting her breast go in favor of a fistful of her locs.

"Oh, God! I want it like that!" she answered him frantically and he entered her again, resuming his punishing labor. "Please make me, daddy! Make me scream… make me… make me… make me..." she chanted mindlessly completely lost in her lust.

Rick grabbed her face ,he firmly squeezed her cheeks with one hand, holding her hip in the other. He put three of his fingers in her mouth, stretching her mouth open, sliding along her pearly white teeth, slipping over her tongue, while she sucked her essence from his digits. She moaned at the taste of her sex, sticky on his fingers as he made another announcement into her ear. "I wanna hear you scream my name when l beat this cream outta you. You hear me?" He pulled his fingers wet from her mouth and went back to play at her clit.

"Yes, Rick. Yes." Michonne agreed as he squeezed and pummeled her body inside and out. He kept going, stoking her deep enough to make her hum from the pleasure and run from the pain. Directing her hips back on his bone hard shaft over and over again, he heard it, "Riiiiiiiick!" she heaved out on a shrilly breath as she fell into the deep end of desire. Her husband took the same numbing dive a heartbeat later.

Landing on her stomach after falling from the stratosphere, she turned on her side and wiggled into Rick's freshly inked chest as he cuddled up beside her.

"You want your gift now? It's over on the table." She told him still trying to normalize her breathing.

"No. It ain't." He curled his damp body around hers and rocked her through his next words, "My gift is right here in my arms."


	4. Room 2469- Chapter 10

This is the second chapter I contributed to " **Room 2469** " for **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite**. It was also the final chapter of the story. Written to: _"Wild Horses" by The Sundays_

* * *

Michonne and Rick face-timed their boys to say goodnight.

Years went by like chapters in fiction and they were getting so big.

Carl was excited about practicing for his martial arts tournament in a few weeks. His parents counted themselves lucky to have found him an outlet for all his rambunctious energy. Michonne liked to blame his unruly behavior on Rick, but the truth was Carl was a pistol like her, never able to keep still, always ready to instigate, to tackle, conquer. While Andre was easy going like his dad. He was their little swimmer. Like water, always ready to adapt or go with the flow. Swim classes turned to swim meets and Michonne was proud to have two medal winning sons who took pride in their skill.

She liked her little ones' work ethic and determination. Rick liked to see them outdo their opponents, mainly because it got his wife worked up and he loved to hear her talk smack about their matches. Lucky for him she kept that kind of arrogant talk out of the boys hearing to ingrain a sense of humble sportsmanship in them. But when they were alone in their bedroom, after another trophy went up on the shelf, the thrill of victory almost always got him laid.

Michonne looked at Carl and his almond-colored skin and Andre, the color of a sweet pecan swirl. She fought back tears as she thought about how well her nutty little guys were turning out. How, if anything should ever happened to her, they would still be okay in the world. That thought crossed her mind more and more these days. In solitary moments she tried to focus on positives to stave off the creeping spectre of depression. Seeing her sons side by side, grinning in their PJs and telling her about their day was a good antidote for negative vibes.

Still, Michonne put on her serious face and told them not to give her good friend Maggie a hard time. She was so grateful that Maggie had agreed to watch the boys for the weekend, but Michonne knew her friend was a pushover. And Carl would definitely take advantage of that if he thought he could.

Michonne's mom was the usual babysitter for their annual weekend getaways. She had watched the boys last year and every year before. They moved into their dream home two years ago and, coupled with support from his wife, its completion gave Rick another reason to feel like the king of the world after his injury at work. Mrs. Fraser added her own touches to the mother-in-law suite they attached to the house. The convenience of having her mother there in the house with them was always a comfort to Michonne in her busy life. She knew without that support, she would have never made partner.

But her mother took none of the credit as she beamed the very next year, watching Michonne head off to her celebratory dinner and weekend. She just kept repeating how proud she was, how stunning Michonne looked, how lucky Rick was. But that was the last time she would sit for her grandsons. They were grateful for Maggie but she was no Judith Fraser.

When he got back to the room, Rick had been quick to strip down to his t-shirt and boxers in answer to the heatwave outside. Michonne's answer had been given all day in her lack of any underwear or bra, whatsoever. His back against the headboard, Michonne had settled between his legs, putting Rick in the phone's camera view as she laid against his chest. She remained in her red sundress that flounced around her thighs all day, but she did pop open the buttons at her bustline to make it easier for her crowded 'girls to breathe' and her husband noticed the sudden drop in oxygen in the room. But currently his mind was on the bedlam at his house.

"Talk about baptism by fire." Rick said in jest at Maggie's current woes as the video call ended with Maggie hollering for Carl to come back.

Michonne chuckled as she tossed her phone to the side, "You think she'll survive one more night?"

"You think you will?" Rick teased her ominously, as the vibration of his voice spread from her ear and into her spine making her squirm between his legs.

"Mmmm," she moaned in approval of his decadent timbre, "I think I've been keeping up. Been waiting for _you_ to recover, as I recall." Michonne painted on a version of Rick's southern drawl to mock him. " _Gimme ten minutes, princess_ …" she referenced the string he always attached to another round.

She paid dearly for the insult as her husband used his wiggling fingers on her ribs for a change. Thrashing away from the ticklish torment, she threw herself out of his arms and back onto the bed. He relentlessly chased her down, pinning her lower half to the mattress with his own.

Lately, as a marriage ebbs and flows, Rick and Michonne had been going at it like rabbits. It wasn't the novelty of a new lover, the excitement of a proposal or even the haywire hormones of pregnancy. Although, in the history making coordinates of the Sheraton's room 2469, they enjoyed each other over and over again unaware of the third little life _already_ nestled cozy and warm in the walls of Michonne's womb, too recently planted to be a factor in their desire.

Rick's simplest desire was to see his wife enraptured. He just wanted to erase the worry that kept building up between her brows whenever she thought about her mom. And she wanted him to... needed him to be inside her, making her forget about all the things that can be snatched away. She needed the distraction of his steadfast love, grinding her sorrow into oblivion.

She needed him.

You could have asked if she needed Rick months ago and she would have answered quickly and assertively yes. But she didn't know how much she needed him. It was cruel of life to teach her this way. But she still found herself thankful for the lesson. Grateful for the twining thread that would bind them closer together no matter how painful the stitch. She knew that like her mother's love would always follow her, so would Rick's.

Her mother gave her life, and many of her genetic proclivities. But Rick, her cherished and charming prince, her King, gave her _a life_.

 _The life_ she wanted.

Every rock they found in their garden, they used to make the foundation stronger. They found beauty in every weed and though it was impossible to keep the rain from falling, they both used the storms to grow and rejuvenate.

Her squealing laughter quickly dissipated as he slowed his assault to look at her. His beckoning blues traversed every lush silky slope and perfect rounded peak on her face.

"What?" she asked wondering what had suddenly changed the playful mood.

"You're a beautiful woman, Michonne." he answered her in a much more solemn tone. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on and I hate to see you in any pain." He whispered tenderly, needling the long stray locks falling across her shoulder, nuzzling his face into hers. "I need you to know that we're gonna be alright and get through this. You believe that don't you?"

The evening of dinner and a movie, a movie with no talking animals or magic, had been fun and carefree. The only disappointment was the IRS notice in front of Dale's gallery publicizing a lien and the confiscation of the property. But as soon as Michonne saw it she was on the phone with the best tax lawyer she knew, giving him info on the property and the mandate to fix this as a favor to her ASAP. The rest of the night had been happy inside jokes, teenage level flirting and tawdry episodes of PDA. She wasn't quite sure what was triggering his moment of introspection, now.

What Michonne was sure of is that, after ten years of making love to this man- feeling him blaze against her skin, gobble her down and break her apart- the intimacy of contemplative whispers during foreplay brought her a kind of erotic comfort. The words coming from their hearts made the nakedness of their bodies even more exposed, even more vulnerable. Being able to strip to the warm bursting aura of their souls, before evoking their white hot blinding release, ruined Michonne for sex with anyone other than Rick for the rest of her days.

His rough palms grazed her cheek on a path down her neck to rub his thumb in a lazy trail along her collarbone. She answered him with curious eyes. "Of course, I do. I wouldn't be able to keep it together if I didn't trust that." she said, nearly wincing at the strength of her conviction. She watched relief wash over his stubbly face as if he could have expected a different answer. But she knew Rick Grimes. Sometimes he just liked to hear the words come out of her mouth. So she gave him more, twirling one of his curls around her finger. "Mom said she stopped worrying about me after the day you kidnapped me from work at gunpoint."

Rick rolled his eyes as the clear memory of that day made him blush and trigger his crooked smile. "Wow. You have an active imagination… at gunpoint?"

"You were carrying your gun."

"But I never _pointed_ it." He stressed. "I was prepared to, though."

"Oh, trust me, I've never seen Negan shook like that." she giggled at the scene replaying in her mind, "Everybody knew you meant business.

"Well, you needed to rest. You were just gettin' over the flu, still weak…"

"I just needed to do one thing. I was only going to be in there an hour tops…"

"But I told you not to go _at all_." Rick interrupted her defense with the same Zeus-like thunder he used all those years ago. His hand was now in possession of one fully ripe breast over the thin red fabric of her skimpy dress, his thumb performing the same stroke over her tightening nipple that her collarbone had enjoyed.

"Well, Mom agreed with you." Michonne acknowledged as she closed her eyes and reflexively spread her legs a bit more. "Whenever I call her to complain about simple stuff, the first thing she asks is 'What does Rick think' or 'What did Rick say' or 'Tell Rick, he'll handle it'. And you always did." She said, opening her eyes again to pull him into her adoring garnet-colored gaze. "You always do."

Hearing her express her confidence in his job as a husband and father made him think about what he was trying to deliver for her in those roles. He knew it might be a little harder to make good on their plans this time around. "You know, if it doesn't happen nothin' changes. We can try all that fertility stuff… but if it doesn't take, nothin' 'tween us changes. We kinda fell off our schedule anyways when we found out about your mom. You're probably too stressed right now to add anything else to your plate."

Rick's pressed his palm lightly over her navel and as if he released a secret lever all her desire began to pool just below his pinky resting on the plump flesh of her mound. Her hips rolled on instinct and, though she was with him in his assessment of their situation, his touch already had her spellbound. She would have drunkenly bought into whatever his sexy small town twang was pitching.

They decided to try for another baby right after Michonne made partner. She had made it to the top tier and she wanted to enjoy the fruits of her labors. Michonne looked forward to making the big decisions without stressing over the minutiae of every moving part and spending more time with her guys. She wanted to experience a pregnancy unfettered by a lackey's deadlines.

"I know." She arched her back, exposing her neck and Rick followed her cues obediently. His soft, warm tongue moving slowly over the sensitive skin there. He ended each lick with the strong suction of his lips. She gasped when he bared his teeth over those same pulsing spots under her ear. "I'm not stressed though. I know we'll …" she gasped again when he crushed his heavy, rock hard cock directly onto her beating clit through the thin fabric he wore, " we'll... get there."

In tune to the pitch of her moans, Rick pulled away from her, cool and collected, guiding her dress up and over her head. She was completely naked before him. Her breasts bouncing free from the elastic ruching of her dress, her ready center still slick from his finger's exploration of her tight little pussy in the dark of the packed theater earlier. Her scent was still concentrated on his fingers and he'd found himself stealing shameless whiffs of them since the end credits.

"I'm still having dreams about her…"

"About your mom?" He asked, affection brimming in his articulation as he removed what little he wore.

Michonne shook her head in answer, "No. Your daughter."

"Tell me 'bout her." Rick encouraged, attentively... tenderly as he suckled one breast, then the other, hungrily. He enjoyed her sensitivity to the stinging sensation on her dark pebbled peeks and he smiled anticipating the subtle physical tells her body would soon exhibit. "The dream still the same?" Leaving listless bites beneath the underside of her pillowy dunes, he made his way lower.

"Yes." Michonne smiled happily. She kept having dreams of her holding a tiny baby girl in her arms. She was having it more frequently, lately. It always felt unearthly. The mother of two had only ever conceived twice- no real complications, no miscarriages. So she knew the baby in her dreams was no echo from a pregnancy past. Besides, she could feel this little girl was her future…

… as sure as she could feel Rick's fingers slowly parting her folds, slowly invading her slit, slowly pumping and massaging her innermost buried treasure. "She… mmm…" Michonne moaned when he slurped her bud between his lips, sparking her legs to tense instantly through involuntary motor response. Still, Rick kept a well-executed pace with his languidly skimming swirls over the pampered, hooded treat. He didn't want to steal her breath just yet.

He let her enjoy the measured passes of his tongue before reminding her to speak from his wet workstation below, "Tell me, princess."

"She... always... looks like you." Michonne mewed into the cool, dark room. "Even more… than Carl does."

"That aint fair." Rick said matter of factly, closing in on his mecca. "You dream about 'er tonight, you tell 'er, her daddy wants to meet 'er, too." Rough hands squeezed her deluxe, curvy thighs for emphasis.

"You're gonna meet her, Rick…" Michonne's breath hitched as her husband licked into her center, deeply on the very first drag through her candy coated entrance. She caught him by the hair now. "... Real soo… soon. I just have… a feeling." She crushed her lip between her teeth as a whimper seized her. Running out of words, her muddled moans replaced conversation as Rick's exacting tongue slipped quicker and harder inside. She ran headfirst into the height of pleasure, shattering, and sending a caressing wave of nectar over his tongue.

Rick moaned his approval as he continued to pull out every drop of her sweetness. "Oh, God." suddenly became all she could say and it fell from her lips a dozen times as he wiped his palm from nose to chin and settled over her jerking frame.

"Let's see if we can't get 'er here." He said with a tender resolution and a commanding glint in his eye as he finally took purchase of her silken, milky canal. Rick set to wind his muscled hips in a serpentine style that threatened to wear a groove into the firm mattress top. He drove her lower back deeper and deeper, drilling deeper and deeper. His raspy grunts went deeper and deeper. His stunning wife, so valued and cleaved to, swept him deeper and deeper into the padded room of her love where a stockpile of explosives lay, waiting for a madman to detonate.

Rick sighed powerfully over her name on a sinfully sweet stroke, "Michonne… I want to see another one of my children in your arms… so… bad. Just picturin' it makes me wanna cry." He said sweetly as he ravaged her walls like a beast ramming the bars of a cage. "But I'm already so grateful…" his eyes misted from all the emotion in the room, born of blessing and of burden. "I love you, princess… Always will."

"I love you, too, Rick."

Michonne pulled him closer when a tear speed away from her mesmerizing dark eyes and her husband watched it disappear like he knew any gloom on her heart would with a few more targeted thrusts. His back paid the price as his deliciously furious cock collided with the spot that had been a no man's land before him, her nails leaving crimson trails across his skin.

The tightening of her muscles nearly stopped his movement, but he knew this was not the time to slack up. It was the time to charge her gushing walls, tax her surging center and then hijack every single sparking synapse that God had put under his immediate control.

They both crashed over passion's highest cliff, out of their minds in love and into the decade-made ether of room 2469.


	5. 7 Days of Kink- Chapter 6

This is a chapter from the " **7 Days Of Kink** " series brought to you by **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite**. For seven days, Rick and Michonne try something new sexually. I worked with **jonesywrites** , **thematsaidwelcome** , **Nyese3529** , **Fik Freak** , **IsisNicole** , **Chezza3009**. So yeah... it's nasty.

 _Written to:"Lights On" by FKA twigs & "You Belong To Me" by Trey Songz_

* * *

"You ready?" Rick asked his wife as he stood behind her and slid his finger tips up her goosebumped thigh to her slick warm slit. As if in answer to his question, the sound of her arousal as he swiped the honey from her center made his cock stiffen and twitch against the satin of her robe over her soft round cheeks. Rick moaned out a "Fuck" into her ear.

Michonne closed her eyes, pushing back against her husband's steel. "I can't believe the thought of doing this is such a turn on… but I can't wait." She shivered as his finger slipped in and out of her syrupy tightness.

"You're not nervous?"

She shook her head. Leaving Rick to inhale the smell of jasmine and rosewater from her hair, "Are you?"

"Nah. I feel fuckin' powerful… like I'm ready to push you to your limit."

….

 **Cause the man that you are is defined**

 **By the way you act in the light**

 **Break or seize me**

 **If the flame gets blown out in the shine**

 **I will know that you can not be mine**

"Stop looking, babe. They're not coming." Glenn smirked in his fitted burgundy button down shirt and black jeans as he took another sip from his vodka tonic. Maggie turned to face him, her expression betraying her disappointment under the blue glow of the neon lights in the basement club. She sat in her black jersey wrap-dress toying with the jade pendant adorning her neck on a golden chain. The round piece of jewelry complimented her pretty green eyes as they dropped to her rum and coke on the low glass table by her knees.

The Rhees sat on one of the four modular couches. Comfortable in the plush white leather (couch, Love seat, lounge?) and smoky haze of the incense burning, they conversed with the other club-goers in their posh attire. It wasn't really a club, more like Atlanta's best kept secret.

 _Bonbon Pour Les Yeux_ had no signage to direct the bored masses to the fun below the downtown street. The voyeuristic, exhibtionists and eccentrics came to the French-modeled operation, called _Eye Candy_ in English, to watch and be watched in the intimate setting. The black metal staircase surrounded by exposed brick walls covered in thick red paint was the only identifying characteristic to welcome the seasoned guests and the newcomers to the exclusive enterprise. The circular stage in the middle of the room was empty as the next couple to perform readied themselves in the back rooms of the establishment and servers refilled drinks.

The Rhees never set foot on stage, though it was open to all in attendance. The Rhees only ever came to feast their eyes on the spectacle of lovemaking. The sights and sounds of live smut and the sexy soundtracks chosen by the participants entertained and excited them. Sometimes it led to Glenn discreetly fingering his wife in the midst of a show. Sometimes, if they found a corner spot, Maggie unzipped her husband's pants and put her head in his lap. That behavior was considered tame compared to some of the frequenting couples. But the Rhees had yet to work up the courage for the spotlight.

They invited Rick and Michonne to their naughty night club with the taunting observation that it may be more than the slightly older couple could handle. And now it seemed that the Grimes indeed, lacked the boldness needed to enter the salacious set up. With the third act about to come on, they were nowhere to be found and Maggie pouted, having really been looking forward to introducing her friends to this kink.

 **When I trust you we can do it with the lights on**

 **When I trust you we'll make love until the morning**

 **Let me tell you all my secrets and I'll whisper 'til the day's done**

"Who were you expecting?" Monica, a platinum blonde with a long bob draped her elbow over the back of the sofa she shared with her wife. She was all fashion in a white oversized dress shirt, large orange belt, cobalt tights and silver platform shoes. She questioned Maggie and Glenn answered over the mood-setting reverberations of FKA Twigs' Lights On.

 **Let the things that I tell you survive**

 **In the way that you handle your size**

 **Never leave me**

"Friends of ours. Would've been their first time."

Monica's wife, Desiree, flipped her long black braids and crossed her legs in her ripped, baggy blue jeans and floral low cut, long sleeved leotard. She bounced her velvet ballet flat on the tip of her toe and looked around. "We've been getting a good number of newbies. A few are hooked…" she giggled and then gasped enthusiastically with news for her friends. "You should have been here last night! A couple we've never seen before went on stage and brought down the house!"

"Oh, God yes! It was The. Best. Show. I've ever seen." Monica agreed. "The passion between those two was palpable."

"And they were so hot! You know how most people come out in robes?" Maggie nodded, "Well these two came out butt ass naked." Monica's caramel-complexioned sweetheart said with a certain kind of secondhand pride.

"Really?" Maggie inquired, matching Monica and Desiree's thrilled reaction as she leaned in for more details.

….

You Belong to Me by Trey Songz was the song Rick chose for their first time on stage. The slow, steady percussion, the sting of the hi-hat and the worshipful lyrics dedicated to the love and pleasure of a necessary woman, pushed him forward to show off all he had to give his exquisite wife and showcase all she had to give to him.

 **You belong to me tonight**

 **My love**

 **All I wanna do is make love slow**

 **Make love slow**

 **Girl you know your body deserves**

 **Everything on this earth**

 **I'll give it to you**

 **Girl I'll give it to you**

Rick looked Michonne in the eye as he cradled her in his arms and carried her up the three steps to the elevated focal point of the room. The intensity of his stare illuminated her dark smooth skin like the patch of night where the moon shines bright. Michonne shivered as the cool darkening blue in his formidable orbs battled the heat spreading from her core.

The modern chrome legs of the cream S-shaped chaise caught the fluorescent lights beaming from the black ceiling and gleamed from the royal blue felt flooring of the performance platform. Michonne's locs swayed as Rick came to stand solidly with his strong muscled calves on either side of the leather lounging couch. The wave of a collective gasp crested from the onlookers in the dimly lit hall when Rick dropped Michonne's head to fall like a pendulum past his knees. He threw her legs over his shoulders, his chin cushioned between her thighs.

Easing down along the high back of the chaise, Rick gripped his wife by her thighs as Michonne slid her shoulders along the length of the chair until her upper body rested comfortably against the cool clean surface of the seat. She held on tight, elbows in the air and hands above her head, clutching the sides of the luxe chaise lounge. Her lower back pulled tightly against his chest, her abundant ass resting at his collarbone. Rick deposited his clean shaven face directly at her center, spread wide like a pot of honey... like a bowl of cream... like a wish come true.

….

Desiree continued, "You could tell the guy was older…"

"But only because of the gray streaks blending through his dark brown hair." Monica explained like she was remembering a dream.

"But he was cut… like, literally chiseled from marble." Desiree clarified with a wave of her hand. "He looked like he'd just ran a marathon."

"He looked like he could hold the plank position all day without breaking a sweat. You guys know I haven't been with a man in forever, but 'Mr. Six-pack' could get it. I mean, he was like a damned prototype…"

"Like, picture Zeus riding on a cloud…"

"Damn." Maggie said with her most risque southern accent. Her obvious awe at their description gaining her a quirked brow from Glenn.

Mr. Rhee inquired, "What about his partner?"

"A goddess." Desiree said flatly. "She was perfection, fucking body goals."

….

 **Oh baby, oh baby I'm ready (so ready)**

 **I'ma take control if you let me inside of your world (inside)**

 **Don't be afraid gir** l

A microphone hung over the stage, ready to pick up every scream, slurp or smack that could occur in a session of exhibition. Bites along Michonne's thighs ended with an amplified pop as he pulled his lips from her flesh over and over. Her bare pussy shimmering like a magic portal and invading his sense of smell with a sweet heady musk that made him growl. Rick's mouth watered and he swallowed through a lick of his lips right before he began. Michonne was well aware of what he planned to do to her. She knew when he dragged his teeth along the ligaments connecting her meaty thighs to the plump pillowy lips of her pussy, that she was in trouble. She anticipated the flick of his tongue on her clit as he teased her, coating his nose and lips and chin in her wetness.

Every eye in the place was fixed on Rick and Michonne as her first faint whimper was amplified into the space. His wife let all her inhibitions slip away. She could literally feel any tension or fear of the crowd dissolve with every twist of her husband's head as he made the slowest figure eights over her vulva, his tongue flat between her lower lips. Michonne loved the way her husband gave head, how greedy he was for her. He growled and exhaled forcefully over her ripe nub almost in frustration that he couldn't bury his head further between her thighs. But she never would have imagined how the eyes of strangers roving her body, as she was left to his relentless tongue, would have made her feel like the most desired woman on the face of the earth.

Michonne widened her legs in the air to a full split. Her toes pointed east and west at the ends of her taut, toned and tawny limbs. She grabbed Rick's falling curls, pulling him closer, as he dove deeper into her melted center and cried out from the jolting sensation when he turned his avid attention to her swollen bud.

….

Desiree swallowed another sip of her dark liquor, eyes rolling back as she felt the burn coat her throat and the memory of Rick's primal undertones still knocked around her brain, making her cross her legs from the phantom feelings snaking through her core. "I've never seen a guy 'drop knowledge' like that."

Monica boasted her own skills and tipped her hat to Rick's as well, "He was eating that pussy like _I_ eat pussy... like he knew what the hell he was doing."

"His woman was on fire." Monica's wife recalled. "No faking like some people do up there. You could hear the flick of his tongue and every lick pulled something out of her. Monica was holding my hand tight," Desiree giggled, "like we were about to watch this lucky bitch ascend to heaven at any moment."

….

Rick pulled one of Michonne's hands out of his hair and placed it over her mound, silently communicating his orders for her to strum her clit in time with the dip of his tongue and her stomach tied in knots as she felt him push in and pull out from the gooeyness of her middle. Her french manicured fingers worked faster and faster as Rick plunged, wriggling his tongue deeper and deeper. Her red-painted lips stretched into an _O_ right as the sudden explosion of her fountain of nectar splashed his face, leaving his chest, her backside, thighs and abdomen doused in her clear warm juices. She hollered into the height of the room and the microphone above her picked up each rounded blissful tone of her issuing pleasure. Her incoherent cries of ecstasy the only sound in the room, as no patron dared to move or breathe until she rode the last bowling wave of her release.

Their rapt audience applauded the messy completion as Michonne's ass slid completely down her husband's torso and laid fully along the decline of the chaise's curved structure, legs still wide and now glistening from her liquid climax. The watchers cheered with parted lips, dry from suspense as Rick took hold of his sizeable cock in a lazy stroke and brought his hefty hanging member to rock hard attention. He used the fat mushroomed tip of his dick to tap playfully atop Michonne's still aching clit. Precum made its way to the aperture of the tip of his cock and he rubbed the natural lube methodically over her electrified button of nerves. She cupped her breasts tight, pushing the tender globes together as her pleading brandy-colored eyes held Rick's predatory gaze.

….

"So he just ate her out and she squirted?" Glenn pulled himself back from the edge of his seat, trying to appear unimpressed by the images his lady friends had conjured.

"He didn't _just_ do anything…" Desiree said with a slight note of annoyance, feeling surprised at how quickly she defended the stranger's performance, as though Glenn was calling her favorite movie stupid. "You didn't see those blue eyes…"

"Or _her_ eyes…" Monica interrupted. "They were locked on each other. Soul-gripping stares. You've just never witnessed something so intense. They looked like they could rip each other apart…"

"But also like they were soothing the beasts roaring inside them." Desiree added. Her poetic offering to the conversation made Maggie flush and Mrs. Rhee lifted her hair from her damp neck to allow a little air to cool her skin. All she could say was,

"Damn."

….

Rick held his tongue as he slowly seized her sopping canal. The tight fit of her making him bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Grimes had agreed to limit their words for anonymity. But Rick was finding it difficult as this was the part where he always verbalized his cognizance of the gift he was about to smash to pieces.

The warm wetness pulling tightly over his rigid length. The view of his veiny cock disappearing into her mocha petals and hot pink opening. The quivering of her bellybutton as he pushed further inside her. The way her face wrinkled in rapture when he filled her to the hilt. Her pebbled nipples bouncing with each of his plowing thrusts. It all made him want to say her name at the very least and howl her name like thunder, if he threw caution to the wind.

Michonne was feeling the same way. Her husband's name was cycling continuously in her mind as she soaked all her senses with his domineering presence hovering atop her.

"Fuck me… Fuck me…" She begged, holding one leg up, her knee pressed against her shoulder. Her other leg was wrapped around his firm ass while she took the pounding he was giving her like a champ. Rick slowly moved his palms up along the planes of her flat midsection, squeezing her buoyant breasts as he passed them on the way to wrap his big calloused hands around her throat.

 **And if I can't have your body**

 **I don't wanna have nobody**

 **I'd rather be alone**

 **Ain't no substitute,**

 **they can't do what you**

 **Do for me**

….

"He had this look on his face…"

"A smirk."

"You could see his biceps roll and bulge when he grabbed her neck."

"The veins in his forearm were bulging too."

"The way he worked them hips… Jesus!"

"No, Desi, the way my girl took that big dick…"

"Yeah, you're right, sweetie." Monica shook her head and pushed her bangs back as she blew out an exhausted breath. "Queen gave as good as she got. Those pretty round ass cheeks bounced on the couch up there and Miss Thing didn't run from it."

"Shit, I would have." Desiree confessed. "I would have been begging for a break."

"Sounds like somebody I know." Glenn teased Maggie's tendency to tap out, with a wink.

Monica laughed knowing her wife would never have survived the work the gorgeous stranger had put in either. But the pretty pale blonde admitted as she remembered the way Michonne threw her head back, relishing Rick's punishing pace, "Queen was done taking breaks, though, you could tell."

"And Big Daddy wasn't about to give her one, regardless." Desiree snapped her fingers with the delicious recollection. "When he grabbed her dreads with one hand and the other hand stayed wrapped around her throat, she couldn't have gotten away if she wanted to…"

"Damn." Maggie's eyes glazed over.

Glenn turned to her and grinned, "Yeah right, Maggie. You don't like it rough like that."

"But it sounds hot as hell."

….

Michonne moaned loudly at the lightheaded feeling Rick gave her as the tilt of her head and pressure at her throat stole her breath and disoriented her. She was racing to another orgasm and Rick saw that familiar look on her face and knew what she needed from him to make it perfect for her.

Ah there's no thrill, like the thrill I feel

Makin love to you, makin love to you woman

And I can't wrap my mind around it

Woman your beauty, perplexes me

And you belong to me, woman

You belong to me

"Yeah… I see it." He sped up, giving her shallow strokes that snatched at her g-spot. She laid a hand on the one around her throat. Her other hand traveled up Ricks arm until she reached his lips with her finger tips. Her husband bit her index and middle fingers lightly and repeated through the clench of his teeth. "Yeah… I see it." Michonne's perfect breasts heaved under his arm and Rick shimmered under the lights as his sheen of sweat glowed like diamonds from a distance. "Give that to daddy… I see it..."

His words spread out through the club's sound system and everyone in attendance tried to see what he saw. He saw those tears in Michonne's eyes that told him she was about to cum and when she did it would ravage every muscle in her body and every thought in her head. She was about to crumble right there in his hands and he couldn't wait for their congregation to witness the beauty of it. He was smirking, thinking to himself that no one in there was ready for it.

Her fingers fell from his mouth and she pressed her palm over the thud of his hammering heart. She loved to feel him so alive and so set to claim her dripping orgasm, one more time, as a badge of honor.

"Fuck, Cho-." He leaned in to mumble across her lips, giving barely a decibel to the mic for the hungry crowd so absorbed in their love.

"Cum…" He buried his tongue in her willing mouth in a kiss that collapsed her completely.

"Cum…" She abandoned all self control as Rick went back to knocking her into the slick leather cushion of the chaise and he tightened his grip wherever his hands touched her.

"Cum." He commanded her one last time, her vaginal walls wrested the rod of his girth deeper into her center as she screamed his name with the last breath she could muster from her lungs before she climaxed hard enough for the whole club to feel it.

….

Monica imitated Michonne's raspy call of Rick's name, leaving Maggie and Glenn looking at each other in disbelief.

"No way…" Maggie's eyes went wide.

"Wait. Did you say Rick?" Glenn asked leaning in to Monica to ensure he heard correctly.

"Yes." Desiree nodded with conviction. "She screamed 'Rick' loud and clear. Queen damn near shattered every glass with that high note she hit."

Maggie shrank a skeptical eye, "Describe these two again."

"Fit white guy with an adorable chin, blue eyes, graying collar length hair…" Monica ran down the details before Desiree jumped in,

"A serious monster in his pants."

Glenn broke into the other married couple's frisky laughter with a less humorous expression, "And the woman had dread locs… dark skin?"

"Satiny chocolate skin." Monica confirmed. The look on the Rhee's face was priceless and she wondered out loud, "Why? You think you know them?"

Neither Maggie or Glenn confirmed or denied, they simply looked at each other aghast and then back at the entrance. Now they were praying that their friends did show up tonight. It was a strange curiosity they felt knowing they were the ones who suggested this place to Rick and Michonne in friendly rivalry and the Grimes came without them and essentially beat them at their own game.

….

Rick felt the river of bliss pouring warm over his tightening balls. The divine head of his cock rammed into his wife's squirting core one more time and he erupted with her. Pulling out of her pussy for the sake of showmanship, he kept her rising high with his thumb furiously toggling her clit as she moaned through every labored breath. He sent his seed milky and hot across her sable skin, like the wax he'd used on her last night. He shot his load between the valley of her breasts, up onto her chest, some even landing thick on her neck as he pulled at his cock until it hung limply, but still mighty, moving independently like a machine.

The sound of glorious applause drowned out the music as people got on their feet to make their praise and appreciation louder. Michonne smiled up at Rick, loving the look of conquest on his face. He leaned over on his forearms and gave her a gentle peck on the lips. "Proud of you." he breathed out, his color red from exertion. He pulled her up from where she laid and passed her a large white towel from a stagehand. He accepted another and wrapped it around his waist. They bowed graciously and took the steps down from the stage, walking through the still captive and clapping audience.

Rick followed Michonne back to the dressing rooms and whispered in her ear, "Let's see

'em do that." He said in a secret challenge to Glenn and Maggie.

Michonne chuckled, "That was top level kink, babe. The Rhees would never."

Rick laughed at Michonne's cocky demeanor, "Those young whippersnappers ain't ready to come for us…. But I say we make this a thang. That was fun."

"Show off…" Michonne playfully chastised her husband's quick addiction to being eye candy for the voyeurs in the crowd.

"C'mon, Chonne…" He would accept no reprisals or feel an ounce of shame as he slapped his palm across her cotton-covered ass cheek. "You know you loved it, too." Rick curled his arm around her waist and pulled her body back against his own as they returned to their dressing room and made their way to the shower. "I could tell."

"We _do_ make this look good. I guess it ain't stuntin' if you got it." she grinned.


	6. Bohemian Rhapsody- Chapter 2

This is the closing chapter of a two-part story I did with **thematsaidwelcome** called " **Bohemian Rhapsody** ". It follows Rick being in need of Michonne and Michonne always being just out of his reach. This started out as a prompt for **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite,** based on the idea of our leading lady showing off her curves in a sexy bohemian outfit.

(Spoiler: He gets her in the end.)

* * *

Rick took hold of the sublime spectacle between his legs, already rising of its own volition as he knocked those pretty pampered feet apart. Her upper body still adorned by the tight fitting half-top had been positioned over the eggshell-colored wooden railing of the cool of the white, knotted ties at her neck and around the middle of her back emphasized her smooth ebony skin. Her long airy skirt was hiked up around her hips. She was a shade darker having worked for the past few days in the gorgeous heat of the sun to prepare for this gathering of family and friends. He loved the richer hue of her skin, the regal look of her breathtaking body. She was waiting on the balls of her feet for Rick to stop teasing her, slip into her wetness and fill her sweet little twisting pussy up. But he still wanted to play.

"You want this dick, don't you Chonne?" He asked her, not bothering to whisper or even lean into her ear. He stood proudly as he prodded at her succulent lips until they parted for him to rub his dripping, capped head all over her tender, pulsing clit. "Can't hear you, baby. You want this dick inside you, don't you?

He felt her shiver as she rolled her hips, bearing down harder on his meaty member. Rick let out a rumbled groan as her entrance smeared the prelude to her answer on his heated shaft. She whined through another pass over his cock with her slippery folds- floating and wanton. She swept her decorated locs to one side of her shoulders, holding them in place against the sensitive skin at her neck with her gilded fingers. Looking back at him with a seductive oaky gaze, nibbling her bottom lip, she answered him with a mousy voice, "Mmm. Yes, Rick."

Unsatisfied with her answer, Rick brought his hand down with a stinging crack across her uncovered ass. Michonne yelped and then sank lower onto the bracing sturdy barrier in front of her. A fragrant breeze crept around the intensity of the heat- tiptoeing and light like the tone of her answer that he would not accept. He wanted her to sound off. He wanted her to report for duty.

"That's how you answer when duty calls, huh?" he said, rubbing the reddening hand-shaped welp piquing at the surface of her pliant flesh. He pretended to be disappointed, knowing all the while she was itching for a spanking. "Everyone's been eatin' out of your hand all day... wearin' this sexy ass outfit, lookin' like a queen but you ain't answerin' your king like one. Now, I'm gonna ask you again." He slapped her cheek again and bit his own lip as he watched it jiggle back and forth under his hand. Rick lowered his own voice as a dark heat slithered off his lips. "Do. You. Want. This. Dick?" he knocked into her to punctuate the need for her to come correct with her answer this time.

Just then, he was shaken from his daydream. As if to answer the question in his fantasy, he heard Michonne's voice burst into an excitedly happy, "Yaaassss!" and he snapped out of his thoughts and focused on the scene before him. Little Judith, shaking the beads Michonne had just finished adding to her thin blonde braids. Their daughter smiled delightedly when her hair made the same noise her mother's hair had been making all day. "Rick, look how pretty Miss Judes is!" the proud mother called.

"Real pretty, honey." Rick nodded to Judith, agreeing with his not-so-secret desire's estimation. "Why don't you run and go show Auntie Sasha?" he suggested to his daughter in hopes of alone time with his chocolate dipped golden goddess.

"Oh! Good idea, daddy." Michonne praised. "Let's go show, Sash."

Rick shook his head, correcting his wife. "Not you, Chonne. You stay right there." Keeping his eyes on hers and the questioning brow she raised, he directed Judith once more, "Go on, honey. Mommy'll be along in a little bit."

Satisfied that Michonne knew not to move a muscle, Rick turned to watch the happy little girl skip off. When her innocent ears were a safe distance away, he attached his eyes back to his wife's splendid frame, resting her hip against the porch's spindled support. Her long smooth legs draped in a billowing crimson, her navel taunting him and her breasts cradled in knitted white had set him on fire. He was on his way to fulfill his daydream when his predatory smirk was wiped off his face by the approach of Father Gabriel.

"Hello, Rick!" Alexandria's priest looked up to the porch with a hand over his squinted eyes in the sunniness of the day. "Maggie and the king think it would be appropriate to say a blessing over the day. Just running it by you first."

"Yeah. Sounds good." Rick maintained his focus on Michonne, half listening to Gabriel's words. He resumed the stalk of his woman. Mentally, he dismissed the father though the man still stood there expectantly.

"Well, I uh… I wasn't sure if you… Do you think we should only mention our fallen ones or include the enemy's too?" Rick stopped mid-stride. He and Michonne looked to Gabriel at the same time.

"What about the enemy's dead?" Michonne folded her arms with attitude, feeling the sting of annoyance at the mere mention of all the foes they raged against so relentlessly until every one of them was vanquished.

"I was thinking of saying something like: We can be sure that names inscribed on walls of remembrance will never be forgotten. We honor them all by living, multiplying our communities and protecting ourselves at all cost." Michonne dropped her folded arms, to place her hands at her hips in anticipation of more from the soft-spoken cleric. "And as for the evildoers we put under our feet, may the sound of us living be louder than their screams as they rot in fucking hell."

The dusky beauty grew an impressed smile as she watched beads of sweat merge on the balding head of the nervous man. She huffed a short breath through her nose, approving and amused. She consented with a nod to her husband, who quickly relayed their mutual agreement in a cloud of nonchalance, making an effort to avoid sounding like the shot caller he was. "However you wanna do it."

Above all else, it was Rick's intention to escape to seclusion somewhere with his skimpily clad wife and wear her out like the sight of her had been doing him all day. But before he could whisk her away, Sasha came carrying Judith in her arms. Her laughter was accompanied by the clapping jangle of the beads and seashells in the little girl's hair as she shook her head left to right.

"Baby girl looks so cute with her 'hair did', but she's gonna make herself dizzy with all this bead shaking."

And with that, a little crowd gathered to watch the adorableness that was Judith Grimes, snatching away Rick's chance for a little bohemian rapture with his gorgeous wife.

The sounds of laughter and music in the distance gave the glowing day a giddy feel. Soon after their moment was hijacked by their daughter, Rick finally managed to wrap himself around the curvy frame of the beauty in the 'barely-there' top, under a ceiling of cloudless blue. Michonne's sandals were kicked off to the side of the quilted blanket she had sprawled out over the plush grass. Two glasses of wine sat steady and still on two food-scraped plates and Rick couldn't stop tasting the red liquid on her tongue. He was an avid fan of her red painted lips and he couldn't stop covering them with his own pouty pucker. She was so soft laying beside him like his little spoon and he found it impossible to keep his hand from roaming under the hem of her red skirt.

"What are you doing, babe?" Michonne asked him through a kiss, twisting her soft velvet neck under his other heavy palm as his hand wandered through the long sweet-smelling locs falling around her shoulders. Having the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen cradled against him made him feel like he was winning life and so did the twinkle in her unworried eyes.

"What?"

"What are you doing with your hand?"

He trailed his fingers past her calf to the back of her knee, then between both of her knees. He used the fingers in her hair to stir the cords of her hair, enjoying the sparkle of the attached Oceanside decorations. "I'm just checking out your hair." he smiled, continuing to let the hand hidden below her waist explore. "I really like it."

"Yeah, I can tell." Michonne smile turning her face away from him and forward again. She pushed the plumpness of her backside firmly against the hardening bulge waiting for release and her wet heat. Rick growled as he sent his lips to work at her bare shoulder and the pad of his thumb held her slick smooth nub. She gasped when he pressed that button and begin a slow circular motion He felt her shudder and heard her moan just before she composed herself enough to clarify, "But I don't mean _that_ hand."

"Oh…" was the unconcerned answer he gave with a steamy breath against her ear as he coaxed two of his fingers into her slippery sex. The rest of his response was only licking up her neck and nibbling around the gold-plated hoop in her lobe.

"Oh?" Maggie repeated, expecting a more interested response from her fellow leader. "That's all you have to say? This girl is becoming a big problem and I'm not gonna stand for it." Shifting Baby Hershel from one hip to the other, her current stance was one of serious intimidation.

Rick blinked a few times, terminating another formulated hallucination. Attempting to refocus, he pulled his eyes off of Michonne reclining on the lawn in front of the constructed stage where a live musical collaboration was entertaining the majority of those in attendance as the festival came to a close. Meeting the irritation in Maggie's eyes, he cleared his throat and offered a more thoughtful answer. "I mean, umm… yeah… I'll talk to 'er… definitely."

"I hope so, because if I talk to her it won't be pretty. We're all adults here, but you know I'm a mama bear, Rick. Eduardo is one of my best guys. I can't have him distracted because Dixianne can't keep her legs closed. I hear Dwight is mopin' around, lookin' more like a walker than ever after she left him for Siddiq and now she's sniffin' 'round the Hilltop making eyes at Eduardo. You better get her…"

"I will. I will. I promise."

"Oh, Shoot!" Maggie exclaimed suddenly. Her eyes widened at a sight beyond Alexandria's primary protector. "Here, take the baby! Quick!" Not waiting for him to agree, she piled the chubby baby boy into Rick's arms. "Glenn looks like he's about to breakdance! Glenn! Stop! Daryl, tackle him!"

Rick watched Maggie's ponytail swinging left to right as she ran as fast as she could to the scene her husband was making. Little Hershel grinned, imitating his unsolicited sitter. The baby's plump little fingers were appraising the stubble on Rick's chin when he noticed Michonne was no longer lazing about in the middle of the ocean of freshcut green. Blue eyes examined the groups of revelers for the swirling of her skirt or the uniquely dark color of her skin, but he came up short in every decorated spot he looked.

"Hey." a cheerful voice at his back got his attention. It belonged to the woman who had somehow been escaping his grasp all day. "Remember when Judy was this little?" Michonne tugged at tiny Rhee toes and Hershel squirmed and giggled against Rick's solid chest. "Time flies."

Rick had to disagree. Time had been creeping along painfully slow today. From the moment he woke up without her until this moment when the party was beginning to die down and she finally sought him out. It felt like forever. He decided that the next time he got home late, he would wake her up and just deal with the consequences. He figured if she woke up to his tongue slapping across her clit, chances were good that she'd forgive him before he could be in any real trouble.

Mrs. Grimes continued as she leisurely strolled in a circle around his tall, strapping physique, "Today I saw turtle races more exciting than any Olympic game." She spoke keeping her eyes on the plated wedge of chocolate cake in her hand as she cut it into pieces with her fork. "I've seen kool-aid pickles of every color thanks to Eugene and I even saw Rosita teach Jerry to doubledutch." Rick lifted a brow in amazement at the thought of Ezekiel's giant steward jumping in time over the whip of twin ropes. Michonne lifted herself on her toes to her husband's ear for a kitten-like whisper. "But nothing beats the sight of Rick Grimes in daddy mode."

Looking down into her radiant face, he responded with a cocky rasp. "I stay in daddy mode for _you_." Michonne smiled and pulled a chunk of chocolate cake off her fork and into her mouth. "Indulgin' your sweet tooth. I see." He watched as she licked her lips of any stray morsels, slow and deliberate. "Do I get a taste?"

Michonne gave up a natural smile and raised her fork to his mouth, offering him a piece of devil's food from her plate. Instead, Rick sidestepped the cold metal utensil. Moving Hershel from one side of his chest to the other, he stole a sampling of the sweetness from her moist crimson-tinted lips by way of a kiss, then another... and another until there was a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, Rick. Maggie told me to come get the baby." said a sweaty Glenn with disappointment.

Rick used every muscle in his gut to avoid an open cackle in the face of one of his oldest friends this side of the turn. "Thought you were gonna..." he cleared his throat to gather some poise, "I thought you were gonna dance."

The man in the baseball cap shook his head in defeat. He reached for his son and a toothless grin burst onto his little dimpled face. "The wife shut it down. Said to dance my way over to the kid."

Rick gave up Glenn's baby and grabbed tight around the waist of his own full-grown baby with her baby-making hips. As Glenn walked away tickling the belly of Little Hershel, and the infant's chirpy shrieks dissolved into all the other sounds of celebration. Mr. and Mrs. Grimes took a moment to look around their heavily fortified home with pride. All the smiling, happy people that were united in the idea of a future full of freedom from oppression and fear. That future was finally being realized.

As Rick's fingers grazed the skin of her bare, soon-to-be-expanding midsection, Michonne smiled thinking about the news she had yet to tell him. She melted into his side and confessed, "I've been trying to get you alone all day. You look better than dessert. Watching you walk around all day in my favorite shirt, these new boots and jeans has me dripping wet." Sliding her palm up his chest, she reached the trimmed whiskers on his face.

"Carl said maybe today would be a good day to break 'em in."

"Carl's a smart kid." Michonne purred as their foreheads touched and Rick pulled her even closer. Close enough for her to feel the insistent bulge in his denim. "I saw a spot for us behind the trucks outback… we won't be interrupted. I told Carol to extend our goodbyes and thanks to everyone who came. So what do you think? Could you make a little time for me?"

Rick gave her another kiss. This time, a mix of demanding and slow. And when he finally let her breathe again, he squeezed the ripeness between her hips, "Lead the way, Mrs. Grimes."

Michonne turned to do just that, only Rick didn't follow immediately. This time he allowed himself the pleasure of watching her walk away. He stood there hypnotized, mouth parted, with the perfect view of her meaty ass cheeks clapping slightly, catching the printed fabric of her skirt between them with every step.

"You coming?" She turned to ask him with an outstretched hand and beckoning smile. Light laughter left her chest as she glided between the tents erected for games, with a nearly dumbstruck Rick in tow. The anxious couple set a quick pace, zigzagging their way through the rows of parked vehicles.

At the very last row, furthest from all the noise and crowds sat a very familiar cargo van. Rick couldn't help but smile as Michonne stood him at the open double doors of its rear and took in the comfy, colorful nest that his woman had created in the hold of their traveling honeymoon suite.

Multiple soft fluffy spreads transformed the cold unforgiving floor of the van into an inviting gypsy-styled retreat. Dozens of vibrant pillows propped up against the partition between the passenger cab and the loading space. Florals, patterns and abstract designs of the cushions, large and small, livened the zingarish space lining the windowless walls. The sun was still about an hour from literally calling it a night, still the darkened lover's lair was set to a magical mood with all the stringed lights Michonne had rigged to run off the car's battery and hung festooned above them.

"When did you…?"

Smiling at his surprise, she explained, "It's why I left so early this morning. You like it?" He answered her with a grateful kiss. "I've been itching to get you here all day. Let's talk about this dick print you got going on here." Rick looked down between them, oblivious, until he noticed the outline resting vertically against his thigh.

"My old jeans were ripped and stained but at least those jeans were used to my package. I'm wearin' the new ones like you wanted me to. So you can't complain." He shrugged, wrapping her up in his arms.

"I'm not complaining." she swore after a deep inhale of his woodsy scent, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. "Looks uncomfortable is all." The growing girth in her hand jumped free, almost snuggling up in her palm. Confident with his response to her touch, she placed both palms on his chest, pushing him backwards to sit on the van's back doorsill. Swiping a rectangular decorative pillow from the line up behind her man, she dropped it between his feet and then dropped to her knees.

Rick took himself in his hands applying short, light downward strokes. Michonne's gold-dusted lids fell sleepily over the toasted brown of her eyes as she licked her lips, rubbing her hands up and down the planes of his thighs.

"Where else could I put this thang?" Rick asked, pretending to scan the area while tapping the swollen tip of his length against the pout of her lips. The precum collecting at the tip of his charged thick cock left a clear, liquid connection from his ready manhood to her politely battered lips.

She had no more clever quips to answer his playful question. Opening her mouth, with her soft wet tongue on display, she closed her eyes as Rick lowered the crown of his cock. Her tongue cradled him and he slowly pulled her head forward to hide as much as he could in the warmth of her mouth. He reached the back of her throat and held her head in place with his palms over her ears. The look in her eyes was wild and he wasn't sure if he was ready for her to work him over like she was often one to do.

Her hands covered his and she showed him mercy, indicating that she would follow his lead for now. Long glides of retreat and reentry had Rick hunched over in pleasure. Michonne kept an eye on her progress, waiting for the perfect moment to make him squirm. Relaxing her jaw for him she tightened the O shape of her lips around his dick, the briny secretion from his arousal dancing over her tongue. She couldn't help but moan her way through the sacking of her mouth.

Rick, on the other hand, was already deep into a jumble of profanities. But it was when he went quiet and all she heard was the suctioning sound of her cheeks and the ragged breaths her husband was pushing from his nostrils that Michonne took control of him. Already weakened from the satisfaction of bliss, Rick was totally powerless when the minx between his legs wrapped her hand around his width and began an insistent upward pull. The motion of her grip, coupled with the dive and rise of her head in his lap had him on the edge, just like she liked.

She loved to bring him right to the brink of release and then engulf him inside her pussy and watch him go dizzy like a child's first steps off a merry-go-round. It excited her to see his gentlemanly nature battle the beast just under his surface. So she set him free with a pop from her lips and with a taunting expression, the tip of her tongue waved goodbye to his dick with short, targeted licks to the tiny opening that was ready to erupt.

She stood up in front of him as his chest heaved and a rash of sweat sprang up on his forehead. He lifted his shirt over his head, the beautiful scars on his brawny body on full display. His strong abs, the perfect background for his granite sex standing at attention like a determined soldier. Michonne untied the holds of her shirt and presented her breasts, full and round, which he immediately reached for.

Stepping back to dodge his grasp, she let her skirt fall in plume around her feet. Hidden behind the open doors to her right and her left, Michonne stood there completely naked. The sun at her back sent a ray of light between her thighs, resembling a heavenly abode and casted a glow across her umber skin that took Rick's breath away.

"All day you've been staring at me. Looking at me like I have something you want." she said to him, all the while slipping her fingers between her plump hairless lips and coating her digits with her essence. "Do I have something you want, Rick?" Tracing her sticky fingers up past his chest, she toyed at his lips when she reached them. The stimulating scent under his nose made him forget her question in a hurry to taste. He moaned out his unbridled approval as Michonne kept her fingers in his mouth, his tongue snaking out so seductively, she decided on a change of plans. She climbed into the bed of the van and her strung-out lover followed. Using her feet to push herself backwards, Rick crawled after her like a fish on a hook. "I can't hear you, Rick." She said when they came face to face. He was still latched onto her fingers loving the taste when she stopped him from advancing on her pushing him back slightly with her other hand, needing to hear how much he craved her. "Do you want this pussy?"

"I do, baby. I need it."

"Duty calls." she said throwing a leg over his shoulder. "All day long you've been the boss, but you're not making moves like one. I'm going to ask you again," She laid on her back with her breasts in her hands, "Do. You. Want. This…"

Before she could finish her question Rick provided a boss' answer, storming everything between her thighs with his thunderous tongue. Her mouth fell open, wordless, his own mouth was full of Michonne as she arched her back and bucked her hips. There was no need to wonder about how good it felt to her. The vice grip she held in his silky dark copper waves and his struggle to hold her writhing body in place was mirrored with equal force. Calling out his name over and over again until tears sprang up in her eyes as they crushed shut or widened to the yellow lights above her, a mixed bag of reactions to the stirring paddling of her clit.

"Yeah, I want this pussy." He said when he came up for air, climbing her breathless body. "I want this pussy in a way I can't describe."

"And do you love me?" she whimpered at his neck, sending his pulse points racing as he devoured her own. Rick descended lower to finally tease her pebbled nipples. The sensation easily building on the electric surge in her womb that sparked and arced. The strength it took to be patient while she felt his hot, heavy cock ghost across her thighs or slit or belly curled her toes.

"Let me show you how much."

Rick pushed into her sweet-smelling warmth, forceful yet gentle. He was careful with his endowment. Eager to treat her pussy right, all the while knocking her senseless from the inside out. The woman who wields the sharp length of a samurai's blade like instinct took in the steely inches her husband offered on a decimating dive to her quickly crumbling center.

The entire van rocked on it's chassy, hinges squeaking and bolts whining through the force of Rick's digging thrusts. He was deep inside his woman, deep enough to find whatever he was looking for. And in this moment all he wanted to find was her pussy relinquishing everything in homage to the stretching plunge of his untamed dick. He found it when she scratched at his back like a kitten, succumbing to the burst of ecstasy tugging across his thick, rock hard length. A tidal wave of fire swept through the pit of her stomach, setting her knees weak, seizing her heart and rolling her eyes back in her head.

"I'm cumming, Rick. Jesus… God! I'm cumming. Shit!"

"I don't want you to stop cummin' on this dick, Michonne." His voice came out commanding ad rough into her ear. "Do that for daddy."

Of course she did it for daddy. She came so hard, her head ached and her ears popped. She couldn't hear her own voice calling his name over and over again. She could only hear her heart pound inside her like the striking stroke of his cock. One final time-stopping thrust pulled him down into the blinding white of delirium.

Of all the scenarios his mind had created today, he thought, nothing he could fathom was as good as the real thing. He laid there on top of her soft body, the two of them quiet, unable to speak for a time. Finally, he fell to her side and she turned towards him wiggling herself comfortably into his chest.

'You think we could spend the night here? I kinda don't wanna leave."

"Yeah. Carl's got Judy. We can sneak back home before the sun comes up."

"Good." Rick's hands began to roam over her backside until he cupped her chunkiness with purpose. "Cuz I ain't done with you yet."


	7. Does Being Sneaky Give You A Thrill?

This was a quickie written for **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite** based on the prompt- _"Does being sneaky give you a thrill?"_

* * *

"Hey." Rick said routinely as he kissed her rebel red lips and took the black duffle from her hand. It had been a rough night already and he still had six more hours of his shift to go. He figured he'd hit the punching bag in the weight room before he slipped up and crack a couple heads. "Thanks babe." He mumbled through another kiss as she lingered at his mouth.

He was sitting in the open area of the station bullpen. The Sheriff was on vacation and he was in charge until Gregory got back. A few other deputies milled about with files or coffee or detainees. Every one of them trying to seem too preoccupied to be eyeing Deputy Grimes' foxy new wife as hard as they were.

"Thanks babe? That's all I get for bringing you your gym bag all the way down to the station?"

Rick watched her hips rock as she glided on black stilettos with a sexy heel, toe strut. "Where are you goin' all dressed up?" He asked her as he noticed the flirty sun yellow number squeezing her curves into a precarious submission.

The pleated hem of her dress held tight to her thighs as she spun on the balls of her feet, accentuating her toned calves and hopped up on his generic brown desk. She spread her ample booty all over his mind-numbing paperwork and repeated his question, quirking her brow, "Where am I going?"

Rick felt a little heat spread out under his uniform collar. He hoped she didn't think she was going anywhere else in that get up, as late as it was. Rick looked around and met the eyes of Leon, who scurried off after a husband's cold gaze broke his bulls-eyed stare at the plump, round paperweight on Rick's desk. "Yeah. Where the hell are you goin' dressed like that."

"I came to bring you your things and collect a proper thank you. I thought my outfit would cheer you up…" she fluttered her long dark lashes over her smooth russet cheeks. She pouted her perfectly glossed lips, "But now I need an apology for your tone." She crossed one meaty thigh over the other, the new position showing off more of her soft sable skin. Resting on her palms, behind her, she shrugged her shoulders and the cleavage under her buttons grabbed her husband's attention. He stood there catching onto her game and he finally got his head right.

Rick spread his gorgeous pink kisser into an apologetic smile, dropping his head in guilt. "Sorry I snapped at you, baby. You know I hate working overnight." he said, stepping closer. "I appreciate it." Taking advantage of the suddenly deserted area he pulled her legs apart and stepped between the bare skin of her thighs. "You look amazin'." His lips and nose trailed across her sweet pea scented shoulder and he breathed deep and insistently. "You smell good too. I'm really… really sorry."

Michonne hopped down off his desk. "Make it up to me." She said pulling him along by his gunbelt. She led him through the aisles between the configuration of desks to the office of glass walls on the other side of the room. Rick pulled her back when they reached the threshold, staring at the name on the door with a smirk of amazement on his face.

"Okay. 'Chonne cut it out."

"What?" she asked innocently, pulling him inside the Sheriff's office as he took one more look around for prying eyes. "Have a seat." She instructed after closing the door and drawing the blinds. "That chair will be yours one day."

"Not if we get caught."

"I'll be quiet." She promised and was met with Rick's humorously doubtful face. Michonne shrugged and approached him with that same slinky walk, "Well this is the only place I'll let you make it up to me, _Sheriff_."

Rick cocked his head with that sexy slanted stance and unbuckled the thick leather holster on his hip and placed it slowly on the big cherrywood desk. "Why? Because bein' sneaky gets you off?"

Michonne's heart skipped a beat when she heard him state the fact. As open as she was to sex any time, any place, she was much more timid when it came to just telling her husband plainly what she liked and wanted, without the whole rigmarole she employed to hide her vulnerability. She willed away the emotion forming a lump in her throat to answer him with a shrug and a nonchalant, "Maybe."

He eased into the rolling chair in a wide-legged slouch, his lustful blue gaze fixed on her form. He had to admit, sitting in the boss' seat felt as homey as his worn-out jeans. He loved this about her. She always spoke to the leader inside him, always coaxing out his kingly nature. She could charm him into anything, like brazenly pulling out his stiffening cock in his superior's office and stroking the veiny muscle with a simple command, "Get over here."


	8. What's Your Favorite Part of My Body?

This is an "all dialogue" piece written for **We'reTheOnesWhoWrite**. It's based on the prompt: _What's your favorite part of my body?_

* * *

"Your toes."

"My toes?"

"Yeah. Does that surprise you?"

"A little."

"I love 'em. Love to watch 'em stretch and curl. I like this color. What's it called again?'

"Currant Crush."

"Love how your toes are at the end of these cute little feet. Love your feet. Come here…

… see how quick those pretty feet get you to me? They might be my fav'rit. Then again…

… those legs… See how they look, one on this side of daddy's lap, one on the other? Come

here…"

"Okay. I see where this is going."

"Where? Where's it goin'?"

"It's going to get us in trouble if we're late. It was an innocent question."

"Innocent, huh? Like all this ass you just dropped on daddy's lap?"

"Ouch, Rick! That stings."

"Shhh… You like it."

"Ah!"

"Damn. Look how all that jiggles. This all for me?"

"Yes."

"Ain't nothin' innocent about this pretty, round ass you got. I want you to ride this dick like God ain't watchin'. Be my bad girl."

"Ah! Sssssssss…"

"That's right. You can start slow if you want. This pussy is so good… I can't lie. It's my fav'rit."

"Yeah, daddy?"

"Fuck 'Chonne, you're so fuckin' sexy. The way you move… Your hips… they fit perfectly in my hands."

"Oh shit… I love the way your hands feel… touch me here…"

"These are my fav'rit too. Mmm..."

"Ah! That's gonna leave a mark…"

"You're too thick and sweet not to bite."

"Do that again… over here… Ssssssss! They should match, right?"

"Let me see you bounce 'em… Fuckin' beautiful. Bounce."

"Mm!"

"Harder. You can take it, Michonne. Look at that pussy. You're so damn beautiful."

"You feel so good… Oh!"

"Yeah... Let daddy hear you."

"Oh, Rick!"

"Fuck… those lips. My name… on those pretty… plump… lips…"

"Rick… Rick… Oh daddy! Ah!"

"Hm? You like when I pull your hair don't you?

"Yes! Harder! … Ah!"

"So soft and… you smell so good. You like it, baby?"

"I love it… so much. Mmm… Uh! Uh! Uh! I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah. I feel it. So goddam wet… Look at me. Let me see those big brown eyes… Goddam! Those eyes could stop my heart. I fuckin' love you, Michonne. Every inch of you. Now, cum for daddy and don't hold back."


End file.
